Dynasty
by wixley-kryptonese
Summary: Elizabeth Potter: the history of an immortal witch who manages to pretend to be Heimdall's sister. The Sorceress of Asgard, Elizabeth is mother to Sif, daughter of the sadly dead Tom Riddle, and mother to Loptr, son of Laufey, as well as one of the most accomplished women in the Universe. She also doesn't put up with Odin or Thor's shit./ femHarry, immortal!Harry, MOD!Harry
1. Chapter 1

"You know, you could have waited _just_ a few days more." She commented lightly as she appeared inside the Bifrost chamber. Heimdall gave her a worried frown before shutting down the Bifrost, walking over to where the woman then collapsed to.

"Time is different in other Universes. It took the majority of the last hundred years' power to transport you here. War is coming to Asgard, and King Odin will need to transport troops. I might as well try to keep as much peace as I can by having as little power as possible. I apologise."

The woman gave a pained smile, hand going to her swollen midsection. "Well, do you have a room I can go into, or something? I bet your King will take some time to get all his troops through." She glanced over his shoulder to where horses were thundering down the Rainbow Bridge. "And quick."

Heimdall nodded, before picking her up and going over to the middle of the chamber, going down a hidden set of stairs into a small room, the only piece of furniture being a small bed covered in a thick sheet woven in runes. He laid the woman down as a contraction seized her form.

"I will watch you," he intoned lowly as she waved her hand loosely, causing gold to shimmer up and down the walls and over the entrance before Heimdall went up, just as Odin arrived on his magnificent stallion.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost! We go to war against Laufey and his monstrous kin!" Odin shouted, raising Gungnir, the warriors behind him shouting and roaring behind him.

Heimdall bowed, before going up to the podium, taking his sword Hofund from its sheath.

"Of course, sire – but know I will not open it for you again if your return endangers Asgard." Then, he entered his sword and turned, shutting his eyes against the sights of the Universe as below, Elizabeth Potter gave birth.

* * *

It was a long but thankfully relatively painless birth. Elizabeth had gone through this before, years past, or maybe years to come – time travel and dimension travel were always iffy, especially when it came to this specific Universe – and she remembered the pain that had come with her beloved Loptr. Her daughter, Sif, as Heimdall had named her in Tom's stead – he'd have probably narrowed his eyebrows at the name, looked it up with a focus that mirrored her own, then decreed it acceptable – was surprisingly small for her second-born, though maybe that was to be expected.

When Elizabeth had found out she was pregnant again, it had been a tumultuous next few months. She'd been approximately three months and two weeks into her pregnancy when Dumbledore's compulsions and potions forced her to finally kill Tom. The Wizarding World had pronounced her, once again, their saviour, and she was the Woman-Who-Conquered, the Vanquisher of Dark Lord's – because somehow, for some inane reason they thought that Tom in the end had been an imposter, because 'he had different tactics to the true He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' – but Elizabeth had only mourned him. Less than a month into her solitude, she nearly had a miscarriage due to her lack of sustenance. She'd attempted to starve herself to death, but being Master or rather Mistress of Death, that was impossible. Her magic kept her baby alive until her body got to a point where her magic had to properly intervene, and dropped the baby's 'life-support'. She'd spent the next three and a half months in a muggle hospital, before they pronounced her fit to leave.

At that point, Elizabeth had been seven months along. The Wizarding World didn't take kindly to her reappearance after being missing for so long, and vilified her for being pregnant, despite her glowing status. So she decided to permanently leave the community, even abandoning Grimmauld – after, of course, packing away all her belongings, all her gold from Gringotts, the Black Library and several magical items that included but were not limited to the Sword of Gryffindor, Slytherin's Locket, a trapped boggart, the Horn of Infinity, the Amulet of Merlock and the Cintamani Stone, to name a few.

She remembered the time when she was fifteen – barely fifteen, but at the same time eternally fifteen – when she'd just _ran_ , feeling so much grief. Cedric had died less than a month prior, and no-one was contacting her and stupid fucking _Lord Voldemort_ was around. At that moment in time, Elizabeth then stumbled across two things – a mushroom circle, and an awakening in her magic.

The contact of the two caused her to be transported across time and space, to the land of the Frost Giants.

They didn't treat her well, at first. On her arrival, she had become one of them, her magic protecting her by turning her into a Jotun – but it didn't change her size, and for that she was ill-treated. But then Laufey found out she existed, her arrival and the time it took him and his convoy to reach her amounting to what Elizabeth believed to be around a year. In that time, she'd learnt their language – then subsequently the Allspeak, granted to her by a non-judgemental wise woman – and gained the skill of wandless magic, while also discovering that a war had been was going on for the last fifty years, and that it was the only reason there were no males around to molest her. Frost Giants lived a long time.

Unfortunately for her, that didn't save her from Laufey, who after finding out she wasn't an Aesir spy taking Jotun form – because apparently Sorcerers could do just that, except her magic worked differently so he didn't discover her human-ness, to both her luck and misfortune – decided to take her as one of his brides. She was pregnant within the next moon-cycle, and birthed her Loptr around half a year after. She had less than four months with her child before Odin finally reached the capital of Jotunheim, and he sent a burst of magic across the land upon removing the Casket of Winters. It destroyed the temple she and Loptr had taken sanctuary in, and for once in her life at that point, Elizabeth was glad that when Loptr slept, he was too cold for her to hold – something which always baffled her pseudo-husband – as she was thrown through time and space back to the mushroom ring-portal she'd stepped through so long ago.

It nearly broke her, losing her son despite the circumstances. Fortunately for her, that terrible grief overwhelmed her grief for Cedric – which Voldemort had dealt with, even increasing due to their connection. The backlash of such sudden emotion made her aware of their mental connection, and through it, she let the Dark Lord understand what she'd just lost. That was the start of something neither expected, but then Dumbledore showed his hand, and their relationship wavered long enough that Sirius died. It broke Elizabeth from the potion-induced haze of anger and she forced herself to fight back.

Dumbledore dying produced the opposite of what they expected, her unnatural will for Tom – Tom, never _Voldemort_ – to die increasing tenfold.

A few months before she was finally forced to kill him, they shared Beltane together, the magicks of the Holiday negating the corrosive magic cast on her. It was when Sif was conceived, Elizabeth knew for sure – she'd never lain with another, with the obvious exception of Laufey. She would never say she regretted it.

"She is a beautiful child," Heimdall said quietly as the newborn laid on her blankets on the podium. Elizabeth was on her front beside her, watching her as she slept. "Do you know what you will do now?"

"I need to find a home, somewhere we won't be disturbed. Hopefully Iðunn will be forthcoming with her apple for Sif when she is old enough."

"I have already contacted her on your behalf," Heimdall replied with a small smile, causing Elizabeth to look up sharply, eyes wide.

"Heimdall, you shouldn't have!"

Heimdall smiled wider, "Iðunn loves children. She would not refuse me in any case – especially when she heard that, while you are not Aesir, you will never die. No-one with as long a life-span, longer even, should have to witness the death of their child due to old age." He suddenly glanced up at the Bifrost. "Gather Sif, Lady Elizabeth, for I must return Odin and his troops from battle."

Elizabeth nodded, before sitting up, scooping Sif and her blankets into her arms, the baby not even stirring as she hurried down into the small room beneath the key to the Bifrost. Inside, her half-arctic leopards, half-kneazles were laid out on her bed, the giant Alaskan malamute puppy cuddled into Ronan's fur as they lounged. Elizabeth sat down, glancing to see if Morag was at her post. The three-eyed raven was absent though, making the witch worry, especially as she didn't see Demon anywhere. The Cornish Pixie had long ago taken a liking to her – their first meeting during the chaos that was Lockhart's lesson being quite the memorable occasion. Luckily though, her little fairies, small, tiny beings that lit up the walls of the room like little stars, were there, calming her. One – her favourite, Lir – fluttered over, resting on the bunch of her knotted black braids, where they connected at the back of her head before falling down in a thick rope.

So patiently, she waited, listening as the Bifrost opened, admitting hundreds of militia – and then Odin himself.

"Heimdall, close the Bifrost." Her friend did, and Odin talked more about his good service to Asgard, but it seemed Sif was waking up. Elizabeth went to put up her silencing wards on automatic, before remembering who was above her – Odin would sense them in a second. Swallowing her panic, she started to rock the child, only for her to let out a cry, silencing the King above.

The illusion disappeared momentarily, Heimdall peering down, "Sister, is there something wrong with Sif?" He seemed worried as he spoke – Elizabeth taking the title thrust upon her in stride – before Odin himself came forward to look at her in the small room.

"You have been holding out on me, Heimdall," the King wiped his pink forehead of sweat and blood, a sheen of magic making them both disappear from his body quick as a flash. "Come up here, milady."

Elizabeth bowed her head, hugging the whimpering Sif to her chest as she ascended into the Observatory, glancing at Heimdall for help as she knelt at Odin's feet.

"Your Majesty." Sif then let out a plaintive cry, Elizabeth switching her attention to her daughter without thinking, ignoring the King as she turned on her knees, slipping into a sitting position on the podium to attend to her.

Odin glanced at Heimdall, eyebrows raised. Heimdall bowed in apology before going to her, pressing a hand to her shoulder.

"Sister," he reminded her of her company, but she brushed him off.

"I'd rather Sif not scream bloody murder, Heimdall – no offence meant, Your Majesty," she tacked on at the end, before summoning a premade bottle, which obviously confused Odin.

"What is it drinking? Is it not too young for such things? Is there something wrong with you that you do not feed your child yourself? Does it have a wet-nurse?"

Elizabeth glanced at him, "I don't see how it is any of your business – but if you have to know the specifics, its cow's-milk, Your Majesty." She said it without embarrassment, but it obviously caused Odin great concern as he pursed his lips.

"You should learn how to speak to a King, woman. Heimdall, see to it your sister is educated in such matters."

Heimdall went to speak, but Elizabeth already had fire in her eyes.

"Heimdall, if you so much as utter a word I will take Hofund and stab you with it." She stood, facing Odin with a click of her heels, only then remembering as he stared at her, that she'd conjured Earth clothes that day. It must have been weird to see a woman in trousers and a loose button-up.

"Your Majesty. First of all, if you expect to continue your line and be respected by the female population as a King, you need to be able to hand such language with grace. Usually, mothers know what their children need. If I feel like the supplement I'm giving my daughter isn't enough, I'll hire a wet-nurse, but that's last resort. I should also point out, Your Majesty, that she is not an 'it'. If I called _you_ an 'it', you would probably have me whipped at the stocks, or worse." Odin puffed up, about to retort when she continued. "My daughter is a girl, Your Majesty, so you would call her, _her_ , or she. Also, as I said previously, the subjects you spoke of aren't any of your business. If you truly wish to know why I feed my daughter cow's milk, then you can gain my confidence as a friend and ask politely – but even then, I might not tell you. It's my private business. You have no say in my private life, unless it threatens the realms – and does it, Your Majesty?" She raised an eyebrow.

The irate King had no answer, and went to leave.

And so Elizabeth smirked what, to Odin, would eventually become a familiar smirk – even if it were not from Elizabeth.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sif! Come to mummy! Yes, come on, come on- oh my god, you're amazing!" Elizabeth laughed, spinning the grinning toddler around before hugging her tight. Across the tavern, there were various cheers and applauds, before Gormund at the bar called for the bets.

"House wins!"

A customer protested, "C'mon Gormund! The kid managed to walk _ten_ steps! I bet on that!"

Gormund snorted, "No you didn't, Alfrid – you bet on ten steps and then a fall! The little 'un _clearly_ didn't fall!" There were jeers from others as Alfrid glared and shouted an expletive at the bar-tender.

Elizabeth meanwhile, laughed at their antics, before kissing Sif's forehead. "My little raven – I can't believe how fast you're growing up, even with Iðunn's apples." She spoke wistfully, before the little girl started to squirm, wanting down. Putting her back on the tavern floor, she crouched down, watching as she toddled over to the nearest child, who caught her before she fell. They, then another few children then proceeded to make it a game, having Sif walk between them, catching her when she fell. To Elizabeth, it was still amazing how mature some of the children were. At times, it was like talking to another adult, but at others, like she was trying to talk grown-up to a baby. When responsibility was thrust on them, the children of Asgard could be trusted.

Satisfied she was safe, she stood up straight and went up to the bar, sipping an ale as a what looked to be half a platoon of soldiers came in – but they weren't soldiers, she suddenly realised with a burst of anger as she saw Odin in the middle of them, his bastard son Tyr by his side. _Royal Guards_. She looked to Sif, but the children were still keeping her occupied – they would for at least another two hours. Her human mind still went at the same pace, oddly enough, so time wasn't as short to her as it was to others. Children's attention-spans on Asgard were much greater than Earth children's.

Turning away from the crowd, she downed her ale, flipping one of her sickles onto the bar. "Give me something good." Usually she only paid with knuts, and even they were 'expensive currency' in Asgard. Gormund took the sickle, noting the weight and consistency with an impressed face, before handing her the best he had – and then handing Odin the dregs. Immediately eyes were on her.

"You." The King motioned to her. "Heimdall's sister." He glanced around, seeing Sif toddling to a child with a giggle. "Is that the young Sif, aye?"

"Indeed," she replied coldly, sipping whatever Gormund had given her, and instantly stopping, eyes wide. _This is…_ She looked at Gormund sharply, "How did you get this?"

Gormund instantly got a blank face, shaking his head. "Father's secret recipe, milady-"

"Bullshit! This is Firewhiskey! I haven't had this in decades – and you're selling this at what _I_ gave you?" Elizabeth gave a disbelieving shake of her head. "For the sake of your business, I won't say another thing about it, but really? Just one of my silver coins gets me a tankard?"

"You're the richest client I have," Gormund said nervously, glancing at Odin's inch of firewhiskey, "It would get you five."

"Wow," she immediately muttered, "No, I'm going to say something." She rummaged around her coin pouch, taking out eight galleons. "This is how much a _third_ of this stuff is worth, Gormund. You're ripping yourself off." She put her money back, before looking to Odin. "Any reason the King of Asgard is visiting my favourite spot?"

Tyr sat up straight at her words, about to berate her most likely, when Odin put a hand to his chest, eyes following the flight of Morgan as she suddenly fluttered to drop on Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth looked to her companion with a smile, stroking her feathers softly.

"What news have you got for me, Morgan?" She asked softly, before the three-eyed raven looked her in the eye, sending her a series of images, leading to a seaside cliff, a large, large part of which that had fallen into the sea, making a cove and island large enough to fit five Buckingham Palace's. "Lovely. You have excellent taste. You have already talked to Heimdall about builders?" Another image, of shell of a manse, ten times the size in both literal size and rooms themselves to Tom's would-be home, if his father had accepted him. Builders had already left, everything ready for decoration that could easily be done with magic. Elizabeth smiled. "How long have you been working on that, my pretty?" An image of Sif's thirtieth birthday flickered on the edge of her consciousness. "Oh, _Morgan_ , you're amazing – I knew Iðunn was right about you!" She laughed softly, rubbing her forehead lightly against her beak. The raven cawed, nipping her ear in a dreadfully familiar movement, reminding her of one white-winged companion who could never join her, before fluttering away across to where Sif and the children played, Demon already waiting there with them all.

"You are a Sorceress," Tyr grit his teeth. Elizabeth met his eyes.

"Indeed I am. If you wish to employ my services for your personal gain, I am now situated at Sakkavbar, an island within a cove just off the East side of the Sea of Jord." She smirked, wiggling her fingers, causing his dark red hair to turn a pleasant shade of blonde. "Be warned though, I don't like self-righteousness. Reminds me too much of some old acquaintances." She met Odin's eyes directly, smirk disappearing as Tyr noticed his change in colouring.

Odin narrowed his eyes, "Sakkavbar, you say? I must pay you a visit in the next decade."

Elizabeth plastered a fake smile on her face, somehow making it seem sincere, before inclining her head politely, "Thank-you, Your Majesty. There would be no higher honour. If you wish to bring the young Princes too, I can assure you that the wards are…adequate, when it comes to protecting young ones." Unwillingly, her eyes slipped to her daughter, staying there momentarily before going back to Odin.

"What is your name?" He suddenly barked, downing the small amount of firewhiskey he had in his tankard. He looked to Gormund, who blinked in surprise, looked to Elizabeth.

"Milady…?"

Elizabeth gave Gormund a small apologetic smile before looking back at Odin. "Give me a name, and I shall wear it as one would. Unfortunate as it is, I have no wish to divulge my true identity."

Odin stood at her words, eyes fiery, "Then I will name you Sága, of Sakkavbar."

Elizabeth's eyes gained a light in them, "And so I will be. Saria! Ronan!" She called, not letting their eyes part until her kneazle-leopard's had slunk over to her, standing and looking to Sif. Going over, she ignored the still-angered Tyr and the silent Odin, pushing past the Royal Guard to the group of children who played with Sif, Demon and Morag. Demon immediately started flying around her head, awakening and poking fun at the fairies that tied themselves in her hair as Morag cawed and fluttered to her shoulder as she picked up Sif.

"My apologies, children, but Sif and I have to go now." She smiled at them all, before waving, Sif copying her adorably. "Fang, come out from under the table now." She crouched, whispering encouragingly despite it being useless, looking at the table nearby, grinning as the deaf but growing Malamute came bounding out, tongue lolling as he joined the calm and demure Saria and Ronan. She hummed in amusement, before glancing back at Gormund, ignoring Odin. She tossed him her pouch of galleons, sickles and knuts.

"Here. Get your wife that necklace she was eyeing, and Gorgandr what he needs to properly take care of that snake he's keeping in the pitcher," she winked as he gaped at the contents of the pouch, speechless. Laughing, she waved her hand, causing smoke to billow around them before she apparated them to the cove, in front of the house that was already being covered in snow from the nearby mountain range.

"Home sweet home," she murmured, knowing she'd have to go back for their belongings and the remaining fairies at Heimdall's Observatory soon. Upon appearing, her feline companions immediately stalked forward prowling around in snow-covered grassed that grew in the sand outside their new home, Fang letting out a short series of barks before going straight for the water. Elizabeth immediately groaned, using magic to redirect him to a snow drift near the side of the house, which she knew from Morgan covered a dog kennel. Then, making sure there was a warming spell covering Sif before she started, Elizabeth shut her eyes, pushing out her magic. It was simple to set temporary wards, but she'd have to make more permanent ones soon.

When she opened her eyes again, Morgan informed her twenty-two minutes had passed, and she felt happy she'd set the warming charms on Sif as she found the baby sleeping against her chest, having buried under her white wool-knit scarf, which went surprisingly well with her Asgardian dress for the day – a dark grey, knee-length shift with no sleeves, knee-high boots, a wrist-watch tempered to Asgardian time and a belt around her waist with the sheathed Sword of Gryffindor. In Asgard, the Sword was merely a short blade, a knife at most, but with the basilisk venom and magic-channelling properties, it was useful when she wanted to cast area-wide spells. Elizabeth had learnt to use it over the last fifty years, and was hoping to teach Sif when she was old enough.

Sif herself was always dressed in the same at this stage in her childhood, wearing a white dress with sandals, with a protective rune-bracelet on her right wrist. Elizabeth had made it just a decade past, to protect her from wild beasts and from getting hit accidentally by weapons if she ever decided to go walkies with anyone looking after her and ran into a bare blade.

Happy with the temporary wards, Elizabeth started to walk forwards, the doors to her mansion opening with barely a flick of her wrist, showing off the tall entrance hall, the spiralling wooden staircase clearly reaching every level, that had its own corridor slash balcony that went around three walls of the square, the empty one having a tall, stained glass window depicting Hogwarts over the Black Lake, something that made her stop and stare for some time before Demon snapped her out of it when he tried physically tugging at the fairies in her hair.

"Stop that," she warned in a low voice, before waving her arm, decorating the walls a pleasant shade of Gryffindor red, with silver white accents and a plain white ceiling, the stone floor smoothing out and mimicking white, black-flecked marble, the stairs swiftly changing to match the floor as Elizabeth realised the wood didn't quite fit. Then came all the little bits of furniture, and decorations, leaving space for things that would come from her own shrunken belongings. After about a dozen hours, going through each room, she was done, making a note to either get a staff or create some kind of golem crew that could maintain the home – and it _would_ be their home. Elizabeth would miss Earth – hell, she missed Jotunheim sometimes – but Asgard was one of the only places where she could blend in easily, without protest, and with their longevity…

"I made quite a fool of myself earlier, didn't I?" She looked down at Saria, who glanced up at her with an expressionless face – but her eyes showed her sad agreement. "He just quite annoys me. Though I'm sure it'll take some time for the message to sink in, maybe the end of the war and having not one but _two_ sons will change him…" Elizabeth sighed, before quietly asking the fairies to leave her hair as she started taking the braid out, feeling stretched to the end of her tether at the moment as she sat on her newly-conjured chaise lounge. Sif was playing quietly on the floor with Demon and the now-inside Fang, the fireplace casting their shadows across the room, as well as a wall of heat that was greatly appreciated.

…though not quite as much by Saria and Ronan, the latter of which who yowled pitifully as she increased the flames.

"Oh do quiet down," she muttered, blasting a set of cooling charms in their direction, increasing it to their preferred temperature of minus twenty degrees Celsius. Luckily, due to it being magical in nature, and directed towards the kneazle-leopard's, Elizabeth didn't feel the frigidness that would surround them otherwise as they sat in front of her like posh dogs, or house-cats, as it were.

Settling down in the chaise lounge, Elizabeth settled down for a short nap, when Sif giggled out of the blue.

"Mama."

Elizabeth's eyes shot open.

"Mama, mama, mama-"

Hot tears pooled in her eyes as she looked over at her baby-girl, who was bouncing up and down, sitting up on the animal fur rug, grinning at her. Wiping at her eyes, Elizabeth hurriedly got off the chaise lounge, hurrying to where Sif sat, kneeling in front of her, watching her treasure babble the same word over and over again.

"Mama?" Sif blinked, before Elizabeth sniffed, picking her up, hugging her tight to her chest, feeling a sudden pang of loss for Loptr. She never got to see him walk, or say his first word. Elizabeth didn't even know if he was alive, and she couldn't bear to ask Heimdall. "Mama, Mama, Mama..."

She took solace in Sif, knowing she'd never have to be separated from her like she was her brother.

"My treasure, my raven…"


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few years, and an abrupt growth of Sif, before she realised that the other children were avoiding her daughter. It infuriated her to realise why, but then Sif figured it out too, and spun stories about a spell gone wrong, and it was getting fixed soon.

Her little face, so hopeful – Elizabeth had no choice.

Sif went blonde.

The child loved it, and fifteen years passed from the moment she said Mama for the first time before Odin came to visit, his sons in tow. By that time, her memory of having black hair had faded, and most of the Aesir who knew her just assumed that her story about having enchanted hair was real as Elizabeth's reputation as the Völva of Sakkavbar started to precede her. Odin was the only one to recognise the truth as they sat in her parlour, watching the three children play with Legos that she'd conjured.

"Why?"

"The other children teased her – she didn't like it. She begged. I couldn't say no."

"The things we do for our children," Odin murmured, before sipping his mead. "I find your home interesting. I have never seen such styles before."

"It's inspired from Midguardian architecture, from days yet to come. I remember seeing it in all these books…" Elizabeth muttered, not really wanting to get into it. But Odin caught her words.

"Days yet to come? You know of the future?"

Elizabeth glanced at him, only half-lying as she covered for herself. "I am the Völva of Sakkavbar. Surely you didn't believe I only gained that title because of mastery over my magic? I do admit, my foresight is limited, but truthfully, most of it is common sense and supernatural intuition. I rarely have visions – once a decade, at most, sometimes none – and dreamcatchers are not a commodity in Asgard."

"Dreamcatchers?"

Elizabeth shook her head, reminding herself that Dreamcatchers were distinctly Native American, not Norse in the slightest. "It is not something we should discuss, not perhaps even within the boundaries of my own home-" she cut herself off suddenly, looking around the room. "Where's Loki?"

Odin looked around sharply. "Loki?" He rumbled, putting his mead down and going over to Thor and Sif. "Thor, where is your brother?"

The blonde boy looked up, frowning, before looking around, "Loki? Loki! Come out and play!" There was no reaction, making Thor start to sniffle. "Loki! Come out and _play!_ " There was a crack of thunder on the last word, causing Elizabeth to hiss.

"Odin, control your son – while there is little magic involved in keeping away lightning strikes, there is the static that I have to deal with afterwards on my person."

"Do not tell me what to do," he barked, "my son is missing in _your_ home-"

But Elizabeth was ignoring him, Morgan having fluttering onto her shoulder, showing her images. "Calm yourself, Odin. I know exactly where he is," she muttered, sending him a poisonous look. "Stay here and look after the son you _haven't_ lost yet – he's about to cry."

Elizabeth left the room post-haste after that, apparating to beach outside, walking slowly across the sand towards one of the only places that, out of a window from the house, you couldn't see behind. Coming up to its precipice, she gazed down on the small toddler who gripped Fang's fur as he played with the salmon in the cove waters, giggling every so often.

"Loki," she called out softly, startling him. He stopped giggling, turning slightly.

"Lady Sigga?" He frowned, mispronouncing Odin's name for her. Smiling slightly, Elizabeth came down to the cove bank, joining him on the cold sand.

"Elizabeth," she whispered to him, "That's my name. Don't tell your father."

His brow furrowed further in a damningly familiar way. Elizabeth supposed she'd seen Odin, or perhaps Thor or Tyr throw it at her in the past.

"Lady Livarbith," he said, lisp preventing him from doing it properly. "Livarbeth. _Livarbith_." He stamped his foot, causing ripples on the water, making the salmon disappear. He gasped, immediately making a sad face. "Don't go." His hand gripped Fang's fur tighter, and for a moment Elizabeth felt like warning him – he was still an animal, and deaf at that – but Fang didn't even move.

"Do you like the salmon?" Elizabeth asked him. He nodded, face still sad. For a split second, she was reminded of Laufey, for some inane reason, but that was the start of a path she _really_ didn't want to go down. Just…the eyes, matching her own, and the forehead was _all_ Laufey's- _no! He is not Loptr! Loptr is dead!_ There was a pang from her heart, before she swallowed, forcing away the possibility from her mind. _This is Loki, Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard._

"Fenris likes the salmon too." Loki suddenly spoke, out of the blue. Elizabeth's brow furrowed, before seeing how he nuzzled Fang lightly. _He couldn't mean Fang, could he?_

"Does he? I didn't know that."

Loki started to nod exuberantly. "Uh huh. He th'ays they're nice and not chewy and they's don't get stuck in 'is teeth," he said, blowing around the words due to his lisp. Elizabeth blinked, struck dumb for a second as he looked to Fang, her eyes widening as he started to speak some untranslatable language, actually _speaking_ to the deaf dog - how?! Magic maybe, enabling the dog to hear?! - quiet snuffles and grunts being his reply. _Oh my god, he can speak to animals like I can speak_ -

"Loki," she interrupted, summoning a small garden snake to her hands and holding it gently, "Do you know what this snake is saying?" She asked him, trying to keep it out of her line of sight, knowing she'd switch to Parsletongue if so. Loki looked at the snake.

" _~Hello~_ " he spoke, and Elizabeth could feel her magic shifting to accommodate. " _~Can you speak?~_ "

The snake slithered forward out of her hands slightly, " _~Yesss, ssspeaker.~_ "

Loki looked up at her, nodding. Elizabeth smiled softly at his expectant expression, before speaking back to him as she banished the sniffing snake.

" _~I haven't met one like me in a long time.~_ "

Loki's nose wrinkled, " _~One like you?~_ " Elizabeth noticed how his lisp disappeared as he spoke in Parsletongue, humming slightly.

" _~Right now, we're speaking in the language of snakes, called Parsletongue. Because we speak this, we're called Parslemouths. I haven't met another Parslemouth since Sif's father.~_ "

Loki's eyes widened, " _~We're speaking in snake language_ _ **right**_ _now?~_ " His expression was one of amazement, a far cry from her first discovery that she could. Distinctly, Elizabeth could remember Ron and Hermione saying that only Dark Wizards could speak Parsletongue. Thank god she ditched them after that.

But Elizabeth made an effort to switch back to Allspeak, "Not anymore, for me. Concentrate on speaking the Allspeak when you want to talk, and it should come out. It's vice versa for Parsletongue."

Loki's face grew sad again, but he seemed to make an effort as he switched back and forth between languages over the next minute, until he finally got back to Allspeak.

"Now I think your father is worrying about you, and your brother," Elizabeth spoke softly, causing Loki's face to become one of guilt.

"Sorry, Lady Livarbeth."

Elizabeth winced. "Uh, Loki? Why don't, instead of Lady Elizabeth, you, uh, call me…" she ran over possible names, before remembering what he could actually pronounce. "Lady Vár."

Loki immediately beamed at her, "Really?"

"Yes, really," she replied softly, before reaching over and picking him up, causing him to let go of Fang – or Fenris, as Loki seemed to like calling him. "Now let's go and see your family – they're probably worried sick."

They returned to the house, but Odin wasn't very worried at all, it seemed, as he listened to Thor explain to he and Sif about what he knew about Asgard and his father's battles. Sif was enthralled by the stories, and soon so was Loki – but when the Royal Family left, Sif was immediately pouncing on her, asking if she could be a warrior too. Elizabeth knew the prejudice against women warriors on Asgard, but supported her.

She'd do anything for her little girl.


	4. Chapter 4

Surprisingly, her home become a go-to point for the Odinson's whenever Odin and Frigga had to leave the capital, which was quite often actually, for an Aesir. The children came around at least twice a year for at least a week at a time. Sif would play with Thor, and Loki would enjoy time with Fenris – _Fang_ – down by the waters of the Sea of Jord. Unless she was busy or otherwise occupied, Elizabeth would join him, and they would spend time together.

Of course, that also meant, with Loki's very apparent aptitude later on, magic lessons.

Loki had most of his tuition with his own mother, but the magic that Elizabeth worked with was completely different – and finding Loki had that kind of magic was a welcome surprise. Sif herself cared more for her fighting lessons, which she took to with grace, even with her recent start at a Young Ladies School in the capital that she went to for the first three days of the week. Loki and Thor went to lessons as well, but as Princes they had private tutors, though the former liked telling Sif about the things she wasn't learning in Young Ladies School, like the politics and private histories of Asgard, which Elizabeth herself liked to eavesdrop on, on occasion. It was quite fascinating.

The highlight of Elizabeth's years though were the reports the teachers sent back with Sif every Yule. Apparently she was 'loud, boisterous, insensitive, incompetent, rebellious', and a few other adjectives. And each and every Yule, they seemed to forget who Elizabeth was on Asgard – it was quite amusing to face the stuttering, decrepit old crones who couldn't get a word out in her presence. According to Sif, everyone wanted to have her as a mother. Elizabeth felt _very_ proud at that.

She started teaching Sif magic at that point. The little warrior was uneasy though, so didn't use it much, which Elizabeth found herself disappointed with, for some reason. She'd supported Sif in everything she chose, from her hair to her profession – but why did her daughter discriminating against magic make her feel so uneasy? _Ill_ even?

Sif had more growths spurts as the decades went by. At age one hundred and fifty, she was the equivalent to a ten or eleven year old, or thereabouts. She was lithe, with fair, silky hair that all her peers admired, wielded the Sword of Gryffindor when she trained with her mother adequately for such a dangerous blade, and enjoyed treacle tart, which Elizabeth had perfected less than a decade earlier _finally_. She'd forayed into many arts, forgetting to keep her cooking skills up to scratch until one day she got served a pudding which reminded her of her original life as the Dursley's slave, and she forced half her golems into the cleaning business as she went into a twenty-year long cooking frenzy.

One day, Elizabeth was walking through the manor, her homemade equivalent to a custard cream in hand, when she heard the music coming from their ballroom. She went in, opening the door silently and watching as Sif tried to dance along to the Mozart piece and _just_ not getting the hand of dancing without instruction, even her fun spins lacking that _lustre_ in which a child spins. Her face was slowly filling with frustration and hurt, so Elizabeth decided to intervene.

"You need to place your feet quicker and lighter if you want to dance like that," she spoke up softly, catching her daughter's attention.

"Mama, oh, I'm sorry-" she went to turn it off, but Elizabeth made it keep on playing, finishing her custard cream and taking Sif's hands, helping her dance to the beat.

"It's a dance, just like your sword-fighting. Every move you make has to correspond to your partners – even if that partner is invisible. Watch me." She started to move, Sif watching her closely and trying to copy, only for Elizabeth to stop her. "No, you don't understand. Dance…it's like being on the training field with thousands of others, practicing the same move in sync with everybody else, to the beat of the drums. See, my foot goes back, and yours follows – see?"

Sif frowned, "I think so?"

Elizabeth went to speak more, only for the door to bang open.

"Sif! Lady Sága! You must come join us for sparring!" Thor came bounding in, Sif immediately stepping back from her mother, hands going to her side. Elizabeth eyed her before turning to the newcomer, seeing Loki just outside the door.

"Loki, come inside, and shut the door behind you." He did, both he and his brother seeming confused at this. "Thor, if you would come over here please – Loki, go to Sif." The two boys exchanged glances, before their eyes went to the music player. Thor made a dash for the door, but Elizabeth had already locked it with magic, smirking.

"I assume then, you have already had a foray into public dancing."

Thor turned, face panicked. "I-I-I order you to let me go! As Prince of Asgard!"

Elizabeth chuckled, rubbing her hands together, thanking Merlin she'd worn an Earth-styled summer dress today.

"Let me give you a wager, Thor. If you can pull off one dance with either me or my daughter without a single mistake, then I will let you go." He looked relieved at this. "However…if you get one step wrong, you will be required to stay here until you and Sif can both dance one of my favourite traditional dances from Midguard."

"Mama, you don't mean-" Sif sounded relieved.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "No, I do not mean the simple Waltz I've had you know how to do blindfolded since you were old enough to speak. I _mean_ the St Bernard's Waltz. It is still quite simple – easier than even a normal Waltz at times. You know it, Sif – forward, forward, forward, up-down; back, back, step inwards, step inwards-"

Thor looked terrified, though Loki was only frowning lightly. Sif, who knew this one, though hadn't a lot of experience with it, only made a slightly disgruntled face. Seeing Loki's expression, Elizabeth looked at him.

"The offer stands for you as well, Loki."

Loki came forward slowly, glancing at the gramophone as it changed to the appropriate music. He came up to Sif, bowing stiffly before holding out his hand. Sif took it graciously, curtseying in her dress. She was wearing one of her nicer, colourful peasant dresses today – green, mostly, with blue silk sleeves and light purple and blue silk over-skirts. Obviously made for a child, with no real embellishments – it was probably perfect for practice in dancing. Loki himself was in his usual tunic, green shirt and trousers, shoes having vacated his feet at the front door, as was the rule for children who ventured further into the house. Sif had no shoes or stockings on, feet bare, her soft blonde hair pulled up in a low, loose bun.

"So it goes like this – just follow my lead," Sif ordered quietly, Loki nodding as she led him through the dance. It really was quite simple, Elizabeth only having to correct her once before they stopped and looked at her.

"I'll restart the music, and then you have to dance your way in a decent-sized oval around the room." The two nodded in unison, and Elizabeth was struck by the similarities in their appearances before she blinked and shook her head, restarting the music. As they danced, she kept half an eye on them, before she went over to the stiff Thor.

"Are you really that bad?" She asked in good humour, but he scowled at her. "Oh, come on – you can't be that bad. Come on." She held her hands out, but he only glared at them. "Come on, is the mighty Thor really going to be defeated by a measly _dance?_ "

Thor, at the insult, puffed up, just like his father, stepping forward and taking her hands tight.

"Ah ah-" she pulled away, spinning and changing her summer dress into a simple ball-gown, curtseying deeply. "The Crown Prince does not steal pretty women for dancing – he asks like a gentleman. Remember Thor, if you were not of high station and grabbed a women's hand, she would be entitled to do anything she wished to you – including castration," she warned darkly, causing the blonde to falter before he picked himself up and straightening, bowing.

"Milady, if you could do me the honour?" He held out his hand, and Elizabeth nodded.

"Very good. Now, which dance are we doing? Would you like to do what Sif and Loki are doing, or something else?" She glanced over at the pair, smiling at seeing they were smiling widely, laughing as they played around, doing silly pirouettes and turns.

Thor smiled at their exuberance. "I want to do the Berands Waltz too!"

Elizabeth chuckled, "First of all, get the name right. St Bernard's Waltz. Second, do you know where your hands go?"

Thor paused, before blushing slightly, shaking his head. Elizabeth smiled, before taking his right hand, coming closer and pressing it to her waist.

"No lower, and no higher, ever," she said in a serious voice, getting a solemn nod. "Usually on a woman, where you put your hand would be in the curve of her waist, and unless she is taller than you, like I am, if you get it wrong your hand should either drift into place naturally, or drift downwards, which is _very_ improper." Her eyes sparkled before she clasped his other hand. "Always up and straight, unless you're doing a lift and turn, or something else silly. Got it?" Another nod came. "Good, now, nod to the beat so I know you aren't tone-deaf."

It seemed that was when they had the problem, as he didn't know what a beat was, but she soon fixed that right up.

"What's this?" Came an unfamiliar voice later on, when Thor was prancing around the room with Sif, Loki dancing with Elizabeth. Upon hearing the voice, all looked up, Thor and Loki dropping their partners and exclaiming.

"Mother!" They then proceeded to run over, barrelling into her as Sif came up to grab Elizabeth's hand.

"Mama, that's Queen Frigga!" She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, seeming both terribly excited and nervous beyond comprehension. Elizabeth nodded quickly, recognising her from likenesses sold around Asgard as they slowly approached.

"You must be the Lady Sága," Frigga smiled at her, prompting both Elizabeth and Sif to curtsey. "Oh, enough formalities – you are a good friend to my husband, and your daughter a confidence of both my sons. We should have met long ago – and every time you see our dear acquaintance, Iðunn, I seem to miss you."

Elizabeth stood, smiling, "You are friends with Iðunn?" Elizabeth took to visiting the Goddess of Immortality regularly after Sif started going to school, Iðunn having lived longer than anyone else ever in the history of Asgard.

"Indeed," the Queen nodded, before looking at her sons, "So what did I stumble in upon? Is that music I hear?"

Loki gave an infectious grin, "We were dancing, Mother! Völva taught us how to do a Midguardian dance! May we dance it at the next ball?"

Thor nodded, "Yes Mother! Tis a great dance that would honour the halls of Asgard!" He nodded along, making Frigga glance up to look at the proud Elizabeth.

"You seem to be a strong influence on my boys, Lady Sága. How would you like to join me for afternoon tea? Your daughter could join Thor and Loki around the palace if she wished."

Sif, Thor and Loki looked thrilled at the prospect, "Mama, please can we go?" Sif pleaded, widening her eyes. Elizabeth immediately caved, not even bothering to put up a resistance. She'd been itching to meet the Queen anyway after all of Odin's drinks and meals here with her. It was almost as if she were a friend of the Royal Family – but that would only happen if she got Frigga's seal of approval.

"You'll have to change, and so will I, I believe," she replied lightly, causing Sif to light up. Looking to Frigga, she smiled, "I'd be honoured to come, and I'm sure Sif will enjoy exploring unknown territory. If you could wait maybe, in the entrance hall, or one of the neighbouring sitting rooms-"

But that was when Morag came in, screeching.

Elizabeth didn't fail to catch the dropping bird, connecting with her as she saw images of pirates and assassins about to attack the cove, the large vessel which Frigga had travelled in, based outside of the wards on fire, the Royal Guard dead. Morag let out a pitiful caw, and she felt blood soak her dress as she returned it to normal.

"Sif, take Their Highnesses to the bunker, now!" She commanded, healing her raven just as her kneazle-leopards came prancing in, Fenris – _Fang- oh what the hell_ _ **Fenris**_ – loping in behind them, by now almost as big as a bear, but silent as a breeze. Frigga seemed shocked by their appearances, but gladly took it in her stride – most Aesir nowadays called Fenris an abomination, and they'd never liked her big cats. "Loki! Tell Fenris he's to protect you with his life – Saria, Ronan, with me!" She looked up, sending out a mental wave of calm to the now-panicking fairies that lit the ballroom. "Sweethearts, calm down, I'm not going to let them hurt you. Shh, shh…" they quieted, before Sif got the Royals to grab her bracelet as it glowed blue from the emergency portkey, Loki gripping Fenris' fur tightly as they disappeared.

Looking down at Morgan, she placed the raven on the ground, healing him again. He got up, immediately flying off. Looking at her kneazle-leopard's, she changed her summer dress into a tunic and leggings, summoning the Sword of Gryffindor to her hand from Sif's room and shutting her eyes, focusing.

All those years ago, during those two years on Jotunheim, Laufey hadn't left her undefended.

A grin spread across her face as she felt the dimensional armour snap into place over her skin. A glance down saw the icy star-metal strapped over her skin like a second-skin, only tightening as she magically removed her tunic and leggings. Quickly, the engraved, blood-splattered metal covered her entire body, going all the way up to her neck before an icy crown wrapped itself around her head, hair tumbling around her face as she ran for the door, speaking in a hush to her kneazle-leopards.

"Saria, Ronan – basically, we've got pirate assassins after Frigga and the boys. We kill all but one, then search their ship. Let's go!" And then she slammed her front doors open, running across the sand, reaching deep inside, turning Jotun blue and freezing the Sea of Jord as she ran across towards the invaders, slamming the sword of Gryffindor into the stomach of a rower.

The attack lasted barely five minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

"Is that a Frost Giant?" Sif asked, pale as she stared at the last corpse to be put under the tarpaulin. Elizabeth nodded as she looked at the member of her clan- _Laufey's clan,_ _ **Laufey's**_ _clan. Dammit Elizabeth!_

There were exactly two Frost Giants in the rabble that was the pirate ship of assassins, but they were clearly prisoners forced to work. She could see how manacles marked their wrists and chains bound them when they slept – and the burns, Merlin the _burns_. Never had she ever wanted to see a charred Jotun again, let alone one of hers- _LAUFEY'S._ A silent growl ran through her before she submitted. _They are mine. I am still Laufey's wife whether I like it or not, his chosen Queen._ Elizabeth had seen how the pair of Jotun's had reacted upon seeing her defending the house – only the other assassins' pressuring had made them attack her. _I still got it_ , she admitted to herself as she brought Sif up onto her hip despite her age, armour long since pushed away into the dimensions until she next needed it. And it wasn't as if she wanted anyone to see her like that, in any case. Prejudice against her people ran ragged here. _Though it's not as if they could prosecute me anyway._

"Yes, that's a Jotun, but they had no choice, my raven." She used magic to transport the body to the pyre, hating how the proper funeral rites for her kin had to be neglected.

"Why do you call her that?" Loki asked quietly from beside her. "She is more the sun than she is a bird."

Elizabeth glanced at him, remembering when Sif's hair had been that colour. "In time, you may discover for yourself, as will Sif. She has asked that question many times. Are you alright, Loki?"

The young Prince looked at her, nodding. "Are you and Sif still coming to the palace?"

"I think not, for today at least. Maybe sometime during the next few months we can come and visit for a time. Your mother is very hospitable and has already offered. I'll have to think it over though – I need to think about perhaps extending the warding, or creating a harbour for the Royal Guard whenever your parents wish to visit without the aid of magic. The Guard lost some good men today."

Loki bowed his head, clasping his hands behind his back as Sif pressed her head into Elizabeth's shoulder, shivering.

"I know. Father made me make an account of their names. I will be going tomorrow eve to tell their families."

Elizabeth looked at him in horror, "On you own? What about Thor?"

The prince swallowed, before concealing his upset, "He will be helping Father track the men who would think to attack the Royal Family."

Elizabeth breathed through her nose, angry. "So you will be going alone – Loki, answer me. Are you going alone to these console these wives and mothers and siblings and children?"

"I am, as a Prince should do."

Elizabeth shook her head, angry, "No. Odin is being an ignoramus. We will go with you." Sif looked up sharply, eyes and cheeks wet.

"Mama? We're going to tell people that the Royal Guard died?"

She spoke in a hush to her weeping child, "Well we cannot let Loki go alone. His brother should be with him, but Odin has neglected to remember that Loki is still younger than Thor – he should not shoulder this burden." Suddenly she felt a familiar presence and turned to see Heimdall without his usual helmet, parking a flying boat on the shore of her home. "Heimdall."

"Sister, niece, Your Highness," he bowed to Loki, waiting for his motion of acceptance before standing. "Your Highness, if you would have me, I would accompany you and my kin to the homes of the fallen."

Loki's lip quivered as the tall Guardian spoke solemnly, and before she could help herself, Elizabeth swept down, enclosing him in a hug that soon became three-way as Sif joined in. Loki started to sob, crying and babbling. Heimdall put a supportive hand on his shoulder while Elizabeth ran her hand up and down his back, like she would do Sif and Loptr when they were babies and fell apart for seemingly no reason at all. With soothing noises and the rubbing, and the continual hug, Loki calmed down after a long while, gripping Elizabeth tightly.

" ** _Mama_** ," he whimpered suddenly in the language of Jotuns, before seeming to catch himself and started sobbing more, confusion taking over his features. Elizabeth looked behind her for Frigga, wondering why he spoke the Wastes Tongue, but the Queen was nowhere in sight.

"Would you like your mother, Loki?" She could feel Heimdall's gaze on them both as she met his emerald eyes so familiar to her own and- She sucked in a breath, starting to add things up.

Loki hiccupped, " ** _Mama, I want my Mama, I want my Mama-_** " Elizabeth felt something in her crumble, before she impulsively decided to test it, bringing her Jotun power to the surface, her skin turning blue, her eyes red as Loki and Sif gasped, both starting to turn the same colour. Sif let out a small scream, but Elizabeth pulled her tight to her chest, staring at Loki as he looked at himself.

"What is happening to me? Wh-wh-what am I?"

"Loptr…" she felt her eyes fill with tears, reading the tribal marks on his forehead, her fingers tracing the matching symbols on his forehead to both her own and Laufey's. "You're _alive_ …as _Loki._ " She stilled, shining eyes going wide as she realised. "Odin took you into his care. He took you on as his _son_ …that _bastard!_ " She hissed, before turning back into a humanoid, her children – oh, her _children_ , how good it felt to say that – following shortly.

"What in the name of Odin just happened to me? I-I-I was _blue!_ " Sif looked about to have a panic attack as she looked up at her mother's face. "You are a Frost Giant, Mama?!"

"Not exactly," she murmured, stroking Loki's face as he, Sif and Heimdall stared at her. "Loki, I have known you for so long, and I didn't even realise what was right in front of me."

"What am I?" He whispered, terrified. "Who am I? Who are you?"

Elizabeth's eyes gained a weary look, but they still held that emerald fire as she spoke to them all. "My name is Elizabeth Potter. I am, _was_ a Midguardian. I travelled through time and space during my years as a young, _young_ adult and was taken as King Laufey's wife. I had you, but by that time the war against Jotunheim was coming to an end." Sif went to speak, but Elizabeth continued. "On the eve that Odin took the capital, I was taking sanctuary in a temple with you and my handmaidens, one of which who held you while you slept. You were always so cold when you slept – I think now, it was because of you aptitude for elemental magic." She swallowed, looking at Heimdall, who watched her, unblinking.

"When Odin took the Casket of Winters, the magical blast threw me back to my old world, and I returned to my life, mourning you." She met eyes with Loki for a second longer, before looking to Sif, "And that was when your father and I started our relationship."

"Tomas!" Sif exclaimed, suddenly fearless as she looked at her hungrily, "Tell me!"

Elizabeth had told her sparse details about her father. Sif knew he was dead, and that he was a great sorcerer, and could speak to snakes like she, her mother and Loki – Loptr – could. But not much else, really.

"Thomas, spelt T-H-O-M-A-S, Marvolo Riddle, named after his grandfather Marvolo, and then given his family name Riddle, like I was given Potter, he and I were…at odds. Specifically, he wanted to enslave all of Midguard and while I would have happily reigned by his side, I was magically compelled to vanquish him." She said lightly, making Sif's mouth drop. They'd never really shared a sense of humour, so Elizabeth continued. "But I was pregnant with you, and on the night I went into labour with you Heimdall finally managed to gain enough magic to beam the Bifrost through the dimensional walls to retrieve me. I've been here ever since – raising you, playing teacher to you," she smiled at her son and daughter, before wiping her eyes and standing, looking to Saria and Ronan, whispering. "My friends, I have found Loptr finally."

As she expected, Saria gave her a 'duh' face. Being part-kneazle, with food that occasionally was covered in Iðunn's apples turned to sauce, her magic – and Ronan's – was exponentially magnified. She probably knew from the start.

"Elizabeth, Her Majesty wishes to speak with you all."

Elizabeth frowned at him, opening her mouth to speak when Frigga's voice echoed across the sands.

"Odin and I thought Laufey's bride to have died long ago."

"In a way, I did," Elizabeth turned to greet the Queen quietly, not looking at Loki as Frigga came forward. "What would you do to me now you know?"

"Well, let you spend as much time with Loki as you like, for one," Frigga said, surprising her. "He _is_ your son too."

Elizabeth swallowed, glancing at the boy, who was looking between each other his…mothers, before he zoomed in on Frigga.

"How did I get to Asgard?"

"Odin found you in the wreckage of a building – a temple," she glanced at Elizabeth, "surrounded by the dead. He knew you to be Laufey's son on sight, and took you to Asgard. He was, at first, going to have one of my handmaidens raise you, but I decided against it, taking you as my own. He learnt to accept it."

"Not as much as you might like though," Elizabeth interjected. "He has ordered Loki to visit the families of the fallen Royal Guard, while Thor helps him track down those that might wish to harm you all."

Frigga looked distraught at the prospect, "That man!" She came closer, hugging Loki tightly. "My son, you shall not have to go if you do not wish to."

"I wish to, Mother" he replied, voice slightly muffled, "But Sif, Heimdall and the Vö…my Mama, volunteered to join me."

Frigga looked at him with a serious face. "Then I will join you." She took his hand, sharing a smile with him before turning to Elizabeth. "May I ask, Queen Farbauti, if I could call you by something other than your title?"

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Lillian Potter," she replied, curtseying as she wiped her face again. Frigga curtseyed back, as equally low.

"For your own protection against the courts, I believe that should be Arch Duchess Vár-Sága, of the Island of Sakkavbar. You have a means to be able to transport people instantly from place to place, surely you can join me there every few days as a confidante?"

Elizabeth blinked at the offer, copied by both her children. "Like, part of the Courts-Courts? Like, I get to see Loki every time I'm there?"

Frigga smiled. "Exactly. All you have to do is be my friend in this venture."

The witch stepped forward with a fixed smile, putting her hand out, "Done."

Loki watched as the two shook, his head twisting to the side in confusion, "What is the magic?"

Frigga frowned, but Elizabeth's smile turned slightly dark. "Oath magic. If either of us breaks our agreement, our magic makes us pay whatever price is suitable for the situation. Fair is fair and all."

Loki made a noise of befuddlement, "Why would you do that, Mama?"

Elizabeth shrugged, "I'm not losing you again."

Sif just giggled. "Loki's my brother. Mama, I have a brother!"

"I know that, raven-"

"Can he have his own room now?"

Elizabeth blinked, before looking to Loki. "That's his choice. I'm sure he already has a lot to think about."

"I want my own room!" Loki blurted out. "I share with Thor at the palace and he snores! Please Mama – can I live here too?"

Elizabeth had a feeling as she nodded that she couldn't deny any of her children.


	6. Chapter 6

"-should stay away. Just hang it over your personal doorway, main house hearth, staircase or the bed of the most afflicted. It'll affect the entire house-hold, no matter where it's placed, but the significance of where it is changes the way the magic is radiated through your home. Rest assured, from what I saw last week, the curse shall pass over time. This just makes it easier for your family to cope with it." Elizabeth smiled at them happily, opening the box that held their charm.

The Vanir bowed low at her words, their dark hair touching the floor, "My thanks, Völva Sága of Sakkavbar." They took something from their pocket, handing it over. Elizabeth gave over the dragon carved from jade and engraved with runes, hanging from its leather tie, before retrieving the gift. In her palm rested a woven triangle, about the size of a computer mouse, made from dried grasses and straws imbued with magic. But what chilled her to the bone was what it depicted.

Her eyes shot to the Vanir in front of her, muscles deceptively lax. "Why this sign?"

The Vanir smiled at her softly, "My people have always known you would come here, my lady. It has been written in the Pillars of Prophecy since the dawn of time." They bowed again, before holding the charm close to their chest. "It makes me greatly pleased to have finally found you. Now my people can rest easy, knowing their waiting has not been for nothing." They stepped back, bowing once more before walking away, Elizabeth's mouth opening and closing like a goddamn goldfish. Only upon seeing a small pouch on a nearby table, made from soft green material, did she snap out of it, going over and scowling as she sensed the contents.

Picking up the bag of coppers, she tipped it out onto the bench, scowl deepening, "My service is _charity_ to those who cannot afford it. Silly Vanir." She waved her hand, the bag and money disappearing. If Heimdall didn't interfere – and he wouldn't, because he wasn't a selfish bastard, unlike _other_ people who could travel through space – then the money would find itself back in the Vanir's house.

"Should I go see Iðunn?" Elizabeth muttered to herself as she left her workshop. "I haven't visited her in a few weeks…" Then she remembered that it was harvesting season and winced. Iðunn would be crankier than a cat in heat. Shaking her head, she decided to visit the capital – Sif was in school. Maybe she'd pay her classroom a visit. A chuckle escaped her lips, before Demon came whizzing past her, high-pitched cackling echoing through her ear before Morgan swooped past, cawing.

"Oh dear, what did you do now?" She gave the blue-skinned creature a fond smile, before laughing, glancing down at Saria as she joined her. "Here you are – by any chance is your sudden appearance because I'm going to the capital." The big cat ignored her, but stayed suspiciously close to her – enough that if she went to apparate, she could grab onto her jacket. The thought of that had her stopping, giving Saria a narrowed glare.

"If you rip my jacket…" she started in a threatening voice, overly fond of her new style of clothing. While rather racy for Asgard, and even a little bit cheeky for modern-day Midguard, Elizabeth loved wearing her new ensemble of tight black jean shorts, a strappy black double-layered silk tank-top with a sweet-heart neckline, black four-inch high boots, and a stark white, fitted tails blazer that showed off her bust and sucked in at the waist, the tails reaching her knees. That, plus the myriad of necklaces and a few woven bracelets with hewn gems littered with protective runes, was very shocking to those that saw her. Just the day before when getting _flour_ of all things, she was called a whore.

Then, Elizabeth had turned and had the pleasure of watching them piss their pants, quite literally, as they realised who the actual fuck she was. It was good to be infamous, sometimes.

Taking the scruff of Saria's neck, she apparated to the gates out of courtesy to the guards, before they let her in past the line of merchant carts being checked out for illegal items, immigrants, etcetera. Strolling through the city with only Saria for company, for once, was actually quite liberating. Loki had officially stolen Fenrir, and only Lir, her mate Dar and three youngest fairy children ever came outside the house with her anymore – and even then, they were literally only decorations for her hair. A quick check saw none had tagged along. Demon and Morgan were always flying about nowadays, annoying each other, though Morgan did communicate with Heimdall for her pretty regularly. Only Saria knew where Ronan was.

Breathing inwards slowly, she called up her magic from the bubbling inferno inside her, feeling green light her hands as she shimmered, everyone's attentions on her wavering as she placed a notice-me-not on herself. Elizabeth then continued on through the city, wandering aimlessly, going in the vague direction of Sif's school…

Then she heard the harried breathing, her ears pricking up as she noticed what Saria did not. Her eyes flashed as she stopped outside the alleyway.

 _A forcefield against sight and sound – weak, raw, breaking…_ Sif's reluctance to learn magic filled her head, sparking…something in her before she stepped past the warding. What greeted her had her glaring. Two girls were being surrounded by a group of burly, half-dressed men in shoddy but shining armour, being held down by their wrists.

"You're so tight, blondy," one of the men on top of them groaned, before shuddering. He pulled away from her, taking three coins from his pocket and throwing them at a piece of fabric on the ground, making a loud clinking noise. Elizabeth felt bile in her throat as she saw the other finishing, and waved her hand, pushing the group of men away from them both, clothing them before causing a blanket to appear over the girls.

One man gasped, "Witch!" He looked at her, obviously about to say derogatory comment when he paled dramatically and stumbled back, trousers wetting much like the one from yesterday had. "Lady V-"

"Save it," she glared, interrupting him. "Leave. Now." She glared at each and every one of them, causing them to scatter before she waved her hand again, making a new set of wards just as the others disintegrated. "Which one of you cast them?" She came over, face blanking as she crouched, looking them over. The older of the two had long, almost impossibly thick blonde hair that was caked in street-dust and mud, scraggly and tangled, which would most likely become even more voluminous when washed, despite the obviously thin strands. In opposition, her face was clean, revealing a fine bone structure and dark jade eyes similar, but different to her own emerald.

The other girl had hair a heart-warming shade of red, reminding Elizabeth of her mother briefly. But like the girl who was obviously her sister – their faces being almost identical, the only difference being their eyes, this girl's being a light brown – her beautiful locks were dirty and unbrushed.

"Amora cast the ward," the red-head answered boldly as Elizabeth focused on her. "You're the Lady Vár, Lady Sága."

Elizabeth nodded, "You are well-informed, but I am not, it seems. What are your names?" She looked to the blonde – 'Amora'.

The red-head went to speak again, but Amora gripped her wrist, "Why are you asking?"

"Because I am looking for an apprentice or two, in the art of magic," she smiled tightly, thinking things up as she spoke, "Or a ward of sorts. Maybe both. But I saw the ward that obscured this alley." Elizabeth looked to Amora, while at the same time seeking out the red-head's own magic. "Your magic isn't trained, but it could grow to be very powerful, if you applied yourself- _huh_." She sucked in a breath, looking back at the red-head, silent as the grave.

 _Oh fucking hell_.

The girl's magic was specified. Fucking _specified_. Most likely, she wouldn't want to learn the type she could cast, either, if her line of work was anything. She looked the equivalent of fourteen, maybe even less than that. At least her sister could pass as a young adult, fifteen at her youngest.

"What?" The redhead narrowed her eyes, before Amora's magic caused the money beside them to levitate into a hidden bag in the small of her back. Elizabeth made sure none of their belongings were lying around before she took their ankles and apparated them to one of the guest bedrooms in her room. Immediately they were crying out, looking around in confusion, getting to their feet, Amora's magic lashing out at her. Elizabeth went back to where they were and grabbed the glaring kneazle-leopard before returning, placing Saria outside in the corridor before returning to the room, whereupon she was nearly hit with a candelabra.

Ducking, she froze the two girls, taking a breath before taking the candelabra and placing it back on the mantelpiece, calming her sudden heart-beat as she struggled not to blast them to pieces with a bombarda.

"I'm going to unfreeze you. Please calm down and just stand still. I'm going to run you both a bath." She unfroze them slowly, watching as they backed away, breathing terribly hard.

"Where are we?" The redhead asked, wide eyes flitting from place to place, while Amora looked at her steadily, not blinking once.

"You are in my home…" Elizabeth waved her hand, causing the door to the bathroom to open. "Follow me…" she didn't wait for them to move as she went into the bathroom, magically starting the taps. A few minutes later, she glanced at the sisters expectantly. Shutting the door, Amora watched her as her sister stripped off what little clothing she had on still, letting Amora cover herself with the blanket that Elizabeth had conjured. When she got in the tub, however, a moan left her lips.

"Ama, it's _hot_."

Amora tore her gaze away from Elizabeth, gazing at the tub hungrily before stripping down to her birthday suit and getting in, hissing delightedly as the water hit her skin. Elizabeth smiled amusedly, before getting together the hair products, knowing that she'd probably have to explain them to the girls. The tub was large though – the bathroom was a replica of the prefect's bathroom, in fact. It had been the most luxurious bathroom she'd ever had the chance to be in – and every room in the house had one.

A while later, after watching the girls wash all the dirt and dust off their bony bodies, she caught their attention.

"I would prefer you called me Elli."

The laughter died down, before she banished her jacket, socks and shoes, kneeling down on the wet tiles as she opened the shampoo and conditioner bottles – Heimdall had brought her no less than thirty crates of them both on her birthday a few decades ago, and continued to give them to her whenever she ran out. Asgardian soap just wasn't up to the task, really.

"What is that?" The redhead asked.

"It's for your hair. Come here, and dunk." She motioned her over, and the redhead, obviously quite curious, did so. Elizabeth then proceeded to lather her hair, sighing at the reminder of Sif. It had been a while since she'd done her daughters hair like this… "Now get it all out with the water. Make sure it doesn't get in your eyes, or it'll sting like hell."

The redhead did as she was told, and when she came back up, she scrunched her nose. "It feels dry now."

"That's where the second part comes in." She started to get it in again, knowing from experience to use more conditioner because it wasn't as soapy as shampoo. "If you just wait a minute above water before washing it out, it'll be silky smooth."

The redhead looked at her suspiciously, but with the bubbles on top of her head, Elizabeth really couldn't take her very seriously. Amora, who hadn't strayed very far, snorted, before coming over to her.

"Do my hair as well."

Elizabeth hummed, before following orders, keeping an eye on her sister as she did. The same process followed, but while Amora waited, the redhead started singing the praises of conditioner.

"It is amazing – my hair feels magnificent!" She smiled widely, before going back underwater, her hands going up to feel her hair. Elizabeth let out a small laugh, before motioning to the impatient Amora that she could wash it out, just as there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," the redhead shouted, prompting the door to open to reveal Sif, who blinked at the sight of them before frowning.

"Mother, who are these people?"

"Sif, meet Amora, and her sister…" she trailed off, glancing at said girl, who gave a smug smirk that Elizabeth didn't _quite_ understand.

"Lorelei."

"Lorelei," Elizabeth repeated. "Amora, Lorelei, this is my daughter, Sif-"

"Mama, Sif isn't telling the truth! I swear, it wasn't me!" Loki suddenly skidded into the bathroom, meeting her eyes as they widened. He looked sideways, seeing Amora and Lorelei.

Three shrieks echoed through the room, the two girls ducking under the water and Loki spinning, hands clamping over his eyes.

"I'm so sorry! I thought it was just my m-" he stumbled over his words for a second, before repeating, "I thought it was just Lady Vár."

"Loki, get out of the bathroom, before you make it worse for yourself," Elizabeth commanded coldly. He hurried out, crying more apologies before he shut the door. Elizabeth looked at the ceiling, "Merlin, he doesn't do things by halves, does he?"

"Mother?"

"Yes Sif?" She replied distractedly, trying to figure out a way to explain Loki's slip-up if the two girls – _observant girls_ , she added at seeing their faces – asked questions.

"Why are they here?"

At her obtuse tone, Elizabeth came out of her thoughts properly, turning to frown at her. "Because they needed a bath."

"Mother…" Sif growled, causing Elizabeth to frown.

"Sif, is there something wrong?"

Sif grit her teeth, before jerkily motioning to the girls, "Why did you do their hair? That's _our_ thing."

Elizabeth felt things push into place less than a second later, "Oh, raven, it's just one time. They've not used hair products before-"

"But we love them already!" Amora chirped.

"-and I _promise_ , if they need any help next time, _you_ can advise." She smirked at her daughter's scowl. "C'mon raven, cheer up. How was school?"

"They kicked me out."

Elizabeth blinked. "They what?"

"They kicked me out," Sif repeated angrily, looking at the floor. "And they've already sent letters out to other schools with my record. I'll never get accepted back into any institute."

"I thought you didn't like school?"

"I don't, but I get to spend lunch in the shared common grounds with-" she cut herself off, cheeks reddening. Immediately Lorelei giggled as Elizabeth waited for her to continue.

"What's his name? Is he cute? Does he have blonde hair?"

Sif turned bright crimson, "Haldor's just a friend!"

Elizabeth felt her eyebrows rising as she stared at her daughter in shock. _She likes a boy. She likes someone – she_ _ **likes**_ _someone!_

"I'm contacting Heimdall!" She proclaimed, standing up as Sif's eyes went wide.

"Mother, no, you can't turn him into a frog!"

"A toad is the politically and biologically correct term," Elizabeth replied, face set.

"Mother!" Sif whined, getting Elizabeth to look at her weirdly.

"Why are you calling me mother all of a sudden? Where did mama go? Did the word just go walkies?"

Sif grimaced, glancing at Lorelei and Amora, who were whispering beside each other at the side of the tub, smirking. "Mother, stop, okay-"

"I don't get it though – and you two shouldn't be giggling," Elizabeth gave the sisters a sharp glare, "I've yet to hear a yes to my proposal."

"Proposal?" Sif questioned.

Elizabeth looked back at the magically-blonde girl, "I offered Amora an apprenticeship, and if she wants, Lorelei too, though I'm perfectly fine having her as a ward instead."

"A ward? An apprentice?" Sif looked conflicted, "But what about- what about _us?_ " She pointed to the two of them, then out the door. Elizabeth's mind flickered to Loptr, before she shrugged.

"As members of my household, they'll be magically inclined to keep it under wraps in any case, and to prevent any harm to the dwellers. They have guest rite, as of about half an hour ago, so don't go setting my familiars on them."

Sif pursed her lips, "Yes mother." She turned, leaving without a goodbye, shutting the door. There was a period of silence before Amora spoke.

"We'll do it."

Elizabeth turned to them, smiling, "Really?" They nodded. "That's amazing. I'll get the technicalities all sorted out immediately. There are towels in the cupboard," she pointed to it, "and clothes in the wardrobes in the room. It'll be yours until I can get more permanent rooms set up. So can I trust myself to leave you here?"

They nodded again, Lorelei giving a thumbs up.

Elizabeth smiled wider before turning and leaving, summoning back her socks, shoes and jacket. It was only as she entered the main corridor that she remembered what Loki said.

"What in the world was Sif going to blame you for?" She shook her head and kept walking.


	7. Chapter 7

Thor was walking through the corridors of the palace, flipping a mead-cup in his hand boredly, wondering when the feast would start when he heard shouting coming from the courtyard. Interest peaking, he walked over to a balcony, leaning over to see Loki and a girl – only to immediately find his mouth dropping as he saw the two raging at each other, rolling around in the dirt as they shouted and argued.

"What's going on?!" He cried, before jumping over the ledge to land on the ground below softly, the natural composition of his Aesir physiology and gravity of Asgard softening his fall as he came up to their brawl, grabbing Loki by his cuff and pulling him up. "Loki! You don't attack a lady!"

"Lady?!" The girl immediately repeated in outrage, before clocking him in the face, causing him to drop his brother. Loki immediately started sniggering, coming to stand up beside her, the two smirking as Thor spluttered on the ground.

"Brother?! You would betray me for a…" he trailed off as the girl glared at him, "a warrior-woman. We are kin!"

At that, Loki's smirk faded, before he shared a glance with the blonde girl, who elbowed him lightly. Sif looked older now, as did Thor – Loki knew his Mama likened them both to 'two Midguardian sixteen year olds'. He had never met a Midguardian, but knew they had a limited life-span, so did not comment. Thor too had once wondered how the Lady Elizabeth knew Midguardians, when she mentioned them offhandedly in a close manner, but that was her own concern – they were most likely deceased now, anyway.

Loki however was still on the small side of things, body-wise, but that didn't seem to effect his fighting, or attitude.

"Brother, do you remember Sif? The daughter of Lady Vár? Lady Sága?"

Thor furrowed his brow, vaguely remembering a girl with blonde hair, and music as a dark-haired woman taught him to dance… A grin spread across his face.

"I recall, brother." He looked to the girl, bowing before stepping forward with a charming grin, "It was some few hundred years ago though, so the memories are faded. I'm sure though, we can make new ones." He winked flirtatiously, looking her form up and down, causing the blonde to instantly glare, punching him in the face, _again._

"Look at me like that again, and it'll be something other than your face hurting." She threatened, glaring as he grinned, wiping blood from his nose.

"Indeed! Well met, Lady Sif!"

"I'm _not_ a lady!" She glared harder as he stood, glancing at Loki.

"Ferocious."

A small grin crept onto Loki's face again, "Yes. Say, was interrupting us your only concern, Thor?"

Thor's grin became slightly morose, before he stood heavily, grip on his mead-cup tightening. "I have naught better to do, brother. I await the feast with Aegis and Ran tonight. Surely it will start soon – Mother has banned me from eating until it starts, so not to ruin my appetite." He scoffed, as did the others, "My appetite is legendary!"

But Loki shook his head, "Surely you have not forgotten Thor? Father searches for a way to borrow the Cauldron of Hymer – it is the only cauldron big enough to brew enough mead for the guests."

Thor listened with a frown, "Hymer? Is that not the Elven Giant?" Hymer was infamous for his Cauldron, big enough to fill the King's Throne Room, but he was equally infamous for his lineage as a half-Frost Giant, half-Light Elf.

Loki suddenly gained an odd light in his eyes, "Thor…" Sif immediately hit him on the arm.

"Loki, whatever you're about to do, _don't_."

Loki waved her off, "It is nothing _I_ would be doing. I was just thinking – Hymer is only half a Frost Giant, and Thor has defeated many in battle." He gave another odd grin, but Thor didn't pay it any mind as he puffed up. "Surely if _Thor_ went to retrieve the Cauldron from Hymer, he would succeed."

Thor nodded at his words, agreeing. "Of course I would! In fact, I will go get it right now! Father shall surely reward me greatly!" He grinned, before turning to the weapons rack, grabbing a longsword and two identical hammer, attaching them to his weapons belt.

He left behind a grinning Loki and a trying-not-to-laugh-and-partially-angry Sif.

* * *

It was odd to be down on Midguard again. Earth. The gravity was different from that of Asgard, stronger, and the grass beneath her feet felt sharper, harder. But the air was warm, and according to Heimdall, it was springtime. She'd always loved spring. On Earth, in Hogwarts, Spring had always meant the snow was melting, and the days were getting warmer. It meant sitting beside the Black Lake under her willow tree with only herself and perhaps Hedwig for company.

Elizabeth didn't know where Heimdall had meant to drop her down though, because she had a feeling that if she'd had a choice, it wouldn't be on top of a small hill of yellow flowers that sat just outside a large blue lake and a group of distinctly medieval houses – and with some of the decorations present, Norse. They were Vikings, perhaps. _Dammit Heimdall_. She looked up, face blank before she decided to sit down, spotting two or three people that had already seen her, and were shouting for others of their 'clan'.

"Heimdall, I'm going to kill you." Now they were going to call her a God…which was technically quite wrong, due to her not actually being a proper Aesir. Iðunn's apple had done many things for her, but turn her physiology into one of an Asgardian's? Nope. It was the same with Sif, not that her daughter knew that.

Someone came over – a young woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen years. Elizabeth waited patiently for them, knowing they would want something such as advice, or to just talk. As they came close, they dropped to their knees, hands clasped together with their head bowed.

"O Goddess, my village is honoured by your presence."

"Thank-you for honouring me," Elizabeth replied kindly, before motioning her forward. The woman came closer, movements hesitant. Her face was very plain, Elizabeth had to admit, and she had an unfortunately large, squared nose, thick matted hair pulled back in a messy but intricate braid. "What is your name?"

"Sigun, O Goddess."

Elizabeth hid her grimace at the title. She wasn't a goddess, not in the least. Names ran through her head, wondering which she could use – she had so many. Then she heard the Bifrost behind her, and turned to see an unfamiliar Aesir with flowing blonde hair and wings. Sigun gasped, before dropping her face to the ground.

"O Freya, my village is honoured by your presence."

Freya beamed at the woman, glancing at Elizabeth, "They are quite the lovely lot, aren't they Ēostre?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the name. _Sounds a lot like Easter to me._ "They are. Why are you here?" She _was_ wondering. Freya was obviously a Valkyrie – one of the only all-female warrior groups that could be found on Asgard. They were spirits of Aesir-dead raised to protect the living by the Norns, from Valhalla. They more specifically protected the residents of Asgard's capital city against invasion alongside the Asgardian Army, and stopped the Shades of Niflheim from rising to destroy the living world.

"I am a messenger, instead of Valkyrie today. The Norns have sent me to declare your title, Lady Ēostre." She knelt, wings softly flapping before she lowered her head. "In the words of the Norns, I name you Lady Ēostre, an Aesir Goddess of Spring. The festival _Ēostera_ is yours, your symbol that of rebirth and that of fertility. Your patron creature is that of the Trønder Rabbit, and the Norns would allow you three handmaidens of Midguard origin. May Odin bless your beginning." Freya then stood, smiling as she disappeared within the Bifrost's light, leaving an annoying Elizabeth.

"Great. Another name…" she muttered, before looking to Sigun. "Do you know anyone who would be a worthy handmaiden?" She asked tiredly. Sigun swallowed, eyes wide.

"I-I-I do not know, O Ēostre."

Elizabeth waved her off, "Just Ēostre. I hate formalities." She stood, pulling Sigun up too as she noticed rabbits appear in the flowers around her, out of the corner of her eyes. She sighed. _They must be these 'Trønder rabbits'_. "Why don't you show me your village?"

The blonde mortal nodded quickly, leading her to the village.

"What is your village called?" Elizabeth asked Sigun as they approached the crowd of people who knelt in deference.

"Hrokkulsstaoir, Ēostre."

"Nice name…" she replied simply, looking at the faces of the townspeople. It certainly was early on in Earth history. The air smelt of fish and animal shit, but the flower field behind her wafted a pleasant fragrance over it all. "Please, don't kneel. I'm not like the others – I don't get off on having people bow. Sigun here witnessed the Valkyrie Freya sending a message from the Norns, giving me my name by which you would call me, and my title."

Elizabeth looked to Sigun, who was looking at the ground, "Sigun, why don't you introduce me?"

Sigun pinked slightly, "My lady-"

"Ēostre."

"Ē-Ēostre," she stumbled before breathing, looking to her fellows. "Fellows, meet the Lady Ēostre, Goddess of Spring, symbol of fertility and rebirth, patron of the Trønder Rabbit. She is allowed to take three handmaidens."

Elizabeth nodded, putting a hand on Sigun's shoulder. "Thank-you, Sigun." Sigun smiled shakily, before someone stepped out from the crowd. They were big and burly, with curly blonde hair with beads braided into small plaits around his face.

"O Ēostre," he bowed, holding out a hand, "I am Chief of this village. Åsmund Ottarsson, at your service."

Elizabeth stepped forward, taking his hand tightly. "Ēostre, at your village's. I hold a fondness for your realm, one that will never truly leave me. Now, how about a tankard something?"

Åsmund grinned, before leading her into the village, towards the largest of the houses – which turned out to be a comfortable meeting hall slash mead hall. They feasted in her honour, serving, at her bequest, oxen and greens, the latter of which she taught the cooks to prepare in a way that had the meat and potato-eating Vikings wolfing it down. Throughout their revelry, she met many a young woman and child, pushed by their fathers, mothers and elders. But…

Elizabeth already had them picked out.

It might have been fast, but she was a good judge of character, nowadays. Sigun was the first. The girl was, in the eyes of her village, lame and already a spinster. She had only three fingers on one hand, something Elizabeth hadn't noticed until it was pointed out, and her grandmother had apparently been a very infamous Völva that had killed many of her patients. The second girl was younger – maybe ten, or eleven, who was clearly being abused. Unluckily for her, in this time period, 'abused' wasn't a word that really existed in the context Elizabeth meant. Her name was Nani. The third was barely a child, maybe four at most, who'd sneaked in from the streets. Elizabeth didn't know her name but she didn't care.

Surprisingly, she ended up staying a week, and in that time got to know a lot of the village occupants. Her favourite out of them all – disregarding her handmaidens-to-be – was a woman named Rebbeka, a blonde bombshell who would have been quite at home in the twenty-first century. Here, in this time-period, her village coveted her, and despite her age, Åsmund – her father – hadn't married her off yet. Rebbeka had spunk though, and was rebellious. Elizabeth enjoyed her enthusiasm, and even gifted her with a necklace that would render her unnoticeable and forgettable to everyone when she wanted to sneak out to see her beau from the next village over.

When it was time for her to leave, she said her goodbyes to the elders and Åsmund, before facing all the hopeful young women who wished to be at her side. It was like getting new wards all again – Amora and Lorelei were quickly becoming independent, but did love her company and teachings, and of course her money, which paid for all their new dresses and official schooling at Sif's old institute – and excited her, as they were younger than the two sisters. If she were lucky, Iðunn might even give the younger of the two Apples before they reached their majority, which was expected of Midguardians selected as handmaidens.

Humming, she searched the crowd, "Sigun, come forward." The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Sigun came into view, mouth dropped. "Sigun, would you come with me if I asked?"

"M-Milady-"

"I'll take that as a yes," she raised an eyebrow, causing the blonde to scurry forward, dropping to her knees, grappling at the fabric of her silken dress. It was a soft green, barely more than a shift, with a tie around her waist.

"Thank-you, thank-you-"

"Shh, Sigun, I hope we will become good friends." She spoke softly, taking her hands and pulling her up to her feet before she looked to the crowd again. "The child, Nani." There was a short gasp from a completely different part of the crowd, before she ran forward, closely followed by her father.

"Milady, please, she is my daughter! My only child!"

Elizabeth sneered at him as she took the short blonde into her arms, hugging her to her side. "Yet you mistreat her like a mean man would an over-energetic horse. She has done nothing wrong, and does not deserve your cruel torment." She looked to Nani, brushing her hand over her thin, bruised cheek, causing the yellowed skin to heal, the girl gasping before she did the rest of her body. "You will not live in despair any longer, child…" she murmured, before giving her to Sigun, who wrapped her arms around the girl tightly as Elizabeth ventured into the crowd, passed the hopeful souls, to a small shed, peering behind it to look down at the small, black-haired child. "What is your name?" She asked in a hush.

The girl cringed, "I don't know," came the whispered reply. Elizabeth's eyes became sorrowful, before she leant over and picked the grubby child out of the dirt, placing her on her hip and walking silently back to her other new companions.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost." Rainbow light shone down, and then they were gone from the village of Hrokkulsstaoir.

* * *

 **AN. A short note about this chapter - the first section references to a tale about Thor going to retrieve, as said, a giant cauldron. I've taken creative liberty with Hymer - I have no idea what they are supposed to be, though they are male. I'm planning in the future, once this reaches a certain mark, to add different one-shots from this 'verse - including Thor's journey to retrieve the cauldron.**

 **In my fic, I based this - eventual - scenario after 'Thor Fishing for Jormungand', from** _ **norse (hyphen) mythology (** **dot) org (slash) tales**_ **. Personally though, if you haven't already understood some different easter eggs from earlier on in the fic, I don't like seeing Jormungandr as the victim, and an exaggeration in mythology. I love Loki - he's brilliant, so I don't discriminate against his children. So in this fic, you'll have to imagine -Thor 'fishing for Jormungand'- as -Thor 'fishing for the** Níðhöggr **', because no no no, I'm _not_ including Jormungandr properly in this.**

 **If anyone has any questions about anything else like this, just leave a review and I'll answer next time I post at the top^. Thanks for reading, and oh- disclaimer, finally. I do not own Marvel or any related properties. I am not responsible for the creation/documentation of Norse Mythology and take creative liberty in tweaking it for my sole, non-profit purposes. Did I miss anything?**

 **So yeah, leave any questions in the review box below. \l/ :)**


	8. Chapter 8

She drank out of the tankard with ease, swirling the golden mead in her mouth enjoyably as she watched Nani blush as she talked with Gorgandr. Across the room in a booth, Sigun sat with little Helyn as she wrote out her sums. With the absence of Iðunn, none of the three had eaten an Apple yet, which made Elizabeth nervous and acutely aware of the fragility of mortals. Already, within two months, Helyn had grown three inches. Sif hadn't grown that much over one hundred and fifty years at her age.

"How's Sif these days?" Gormund asked her suddenly, snapping Elizabeth out of her dark thoughts.

"Sif? Oh, fine. She wants to be a warrior."

Gormund nodded, though a frown took up his face, "May I ask you a question?"

"Depends on the question," she replied, turning on the bar stool properly to face the bartender. "What is it?"

"Sif…her hair." Their eyes met, Elizabeth not letting him look away as he spoke. "She's blonde right now, but when she first came here when she was a bairn…"

"People teased her. She told them it was a spell gone wrong and it was being fixed soon. I conceded to her wishes." Elizabeth didn't lie to Gormund and never would she – she couldn't, not to him. Not to the one person who didn't judge, or didn't care about politics, or her magic, and even allowed her familiars inside. Even now, Ronan and Saria sat on their specially-made shelf alcove near the door. Cats were seen as unlucky on Asgard, as demons – and Gormund didn't care.

"It'll wane eventually," he warned, "or someone will break it, and you won't be there to fix it. She doesn't remember why you call her raven, let alone that her hair used to be black. What happens when that happens, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked at him darkly, "I'll advise you not to use that name in public, Gormund Gardunsson."

Gormund put his hands up, "It is a valid question, milady. What happens when Sif realises?" There was a sudden sob as the door to the pub banged open.

"Mother! Loki spelled my hair and it won't go back!" All colour drained from Elizabeth's face as she turned, eyes widening upon seeing Sif holding black locks. "Mother!"

Elizabeth stood, panicking, "Sif, calm down-"

"No, mother! Make my hair normal again! Reverse Loki's tricks!" She was crying, _crying_. To Elizabeth, that was more of a sign than anything else that something more was wrong. Stepping forward, she took her daughter's hands from her hair, holding her wrists tightly as she met her daughter's eyes.

"What happened, raven? Did Loki say anything?"

Sif shook her head, making a confused noise, "He- he didn't even laugh! It was- it was like he was trying to pretend it was an accident!" _Oh merlin, he reversed it by accident._ Something in her was proud of Loptr for his use of magic. To reverse an enchantment that powerful, that had been layered to Sif for so many years…

"Raven, I'm going to take us home," Sif pressed her forehead against Elizabeth's chest heavily, still shorter than her but catching up quickly. "Okay, I need you to breathe, breathe…" The door banged open again, admitting a blonde teen boy only probably a hundred years older than Sif.

"Sif, are you okay?"

Sif jumped at his voice, reaching up to her mother's shoulders-

And apparating them to the Bifrost.

Elizabeth staggered at the use of unrefined apparation, almost throwing up. Sif, however, failed in resisting, upchucking.

"Sif, what…how did you do that? I've not even _taught_ you how to apparate yet – you're too young! And when did you even start using magic again?!" Elizabeth felt betrayed. Her daughter – her _baby_ – was using magic taught to her, but- but no matter how proud that made her feel, it was tainted. Sif despised magic. _Tom despised those who didn't use magic_. The thought came to her head without prompting, without inspiration, and it was like a sledgehammer to her heart. _That_ was why she was so disappointed. Tom would be ashamed to call Sif his daughter.

But right now, that didn't matter. _It must not matter!_

Sif beside her wiped her mouth, looking away from the puddle, "Loki taught me how last year."

Elizabeth vanished the unpleasant smelling liquid, pulling Sif to her. "He shouldn't have. Why did you apparate us?"

"Because of Haldor," Heimdall interrupted pleasantly, low voice soothing. "Sif is with child, and he doesn't know."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "What?" She looked to Sif, who had quieted. "Sif, why…why didn't you tell me?"

"Scared. Mama, I don't want a baby." Tears dripped down her face, black hair a mess – which reminded her of Sif's first predicament.

"I know you don't, raven – you want to be a warrior," Elizabeth said distractedly, running a hand through her hair. "Sif, I need to tell you something."

"What?" The former-blonde wiped at her face.

"When you were little, you asked me to enchant your hair blonde, because everyone avoided you."

Sif looked at her in shock, "Mama?"

Elizabeth put her hands to her face, "Merlin, there's so much going on. Ugh. I need a break – and Heimdall, where the hell is Iðunn? I've been trying to reach her for months now."

Heimdall frowned at her, "Odin and Loki went on a ride, at Frigga's command so they could have some quality time together. A giant in disguise abducted Loki, and Iðunn had to be given up to him in payment. She is his hostage. Loki is retrieving her as we speak, having finally found the location of Thrymheim. I will be transporting them here momentarily, so either go down to where you once lived, apparate home or ask of me to send you somewhere quickly."

Elizabeth looked back at Sif, who still looked vaguely terrified. _It isn't as if she can get an abortion…and she'd hate for everyone to see her pregnant. Weak._ Elizabeth felt herself go slightly numb as she decided, seeing Morgan out of the corner of her eyes. _And I'll talk to Loki about getting kidnapped later, and running off to fix it when he should be apologising to Sif. And for changing her hair in the first place when he should have already been fixing it._

"Morgan, come here." The three-eyed raven cawed, flying down to her outstretched hand. "I need you to give a message to Frigga."

* * *

A year later, in the town of Hrokkulsstaoir, Ullr would be crawling around, growing as fast as a Midguardian child would. Sif got back into shape, ignoring her son as Elizabeth cared for him, renaming him Ollerus in her absence. They stayed for half a year more – or rather, Elizabeth and Ollerus did. Sif returned to Asgard in short order, hair still black as night, but her smiles gone. Iðunn visited often after she left, becoming more well-known on Midguard as she fed Ollerus and Elizabeth's three handmaidens the Golden Fruits of Her Garden. Their growth stopped nearly immediately, slowing to that of an Aesir's, while Iðunn healed from her time with Thjazi's hands, raising her own son alongside Ollerus – named by Elizabeth, James.

But they did go back up to Asgard soon. Amora and Lorelei took to the toddler surprisingly well, Lorelei loving the babe as if he were her own. When Sif found out, she hated both more than ever. Elizabeth didn't discourage the teen, for the first time refusing – _refusing_ – to submit to Sif's wishes.

"If you don't want Lorelei to spend time with _your_ child, then look after him yourself! You have missed so much, and for that I say _no_ , Sif Tomosdottr!"

Sif, in answer, completely – completely – stopped using magic, and that hit Elizabeth harder than she ever thought it would. Tom would be ashamed to call Sif his daughter, _so, so ashamed_ , and Elizabeth wept for days at the thought. She missed Tom, missed him so much, and with that brought thoughts of her living husband – her King, her Laufey. How she loved him, she didn't know. _Stockholm syndrome, obviously_. But she still did. She still loved the monster that gave her Loki.

As to her son, Loki was frigid around Sif, and the two lost the childhood companionship they shared, and he spent more time around her child than Lorelei did at some times. That only increased when Amora started her seduction of Thor, and Lorelei revealed her intentions to Sif that she wished to have Haldor for herself.

 _That_ made it even worse for Elizabeth, and it was at that point she banished every person but her handmaidens and Ollerus from Sakkavbar, going into seclusion. She raised her grandson with grace, not listening to the whispers, the rumours, relying only on Morag to give her what she needed to know. She watched from afar as Amora gained followers while Odin was in Odinsleep, seducing men right and left, with Lorelei not far behind her – but stopping at Haldor, making him attack the mother of the child he knew nothing about. She watched as Sif killed the man she loved, and cried in Loki's arms as the wards around Sakkavbar refused her entrance to see Ollerus, before returning to battle and watching as Amora and Lorelei were locked deep, in the dark, far away from them all.

Few things over the next century Elizabeth spent on her island amused her, though many made her proud. Loki's feats of magic, no matter how unethical or amoral, made her smile and praise Morag for capturing the moment. His powers saw his horse lead away Svadilfari, to eventually bear the fastest, strongest and weirdest steed for Odin in Sleipnir, eight-legged due to the magic that affected the foal's mother. His mischief that led to the creation of Thor's hammer, and the later event of Mjolnir being stolen made her laugh – but she made sure to get revenge on the Dwarf brothers Brokkr and Sindri for sewing the lips of her son closed, journeying outside her wards for the first and last time during her seclusion to torture them within an inch of their lives.

Ollerus grew and grew though, so she focused on him until he wished to join the army. Knowing that Sif would be proud of him – knowing _she'd_ be proud of him – if he was accepted into the Young Aesir Guard, she let him, and he left Sakkavbar, with Godric Gryffindor's blade at his side, having long since been returned by Sif. Later, through Morag, Elizabeth watched as his mother saw him among the recruits, saw the blade and looked on with distant pride, using a tiny piece of magic to give to her child, Haldor's shield and armour, without words proclaiming his lineage to all.

All except him.


	9. Chapter 9

Utgardr was a most gracious host, Elizabeth had discovered, and a fun one at that. He easily called her 'Elli', his and his kin's uniqueness as beings letting him sense the truth of her power. Elizabeth seemed to be discovering more people who knew about her over time, and somehow, that was comforting. He'd invited her to his castle, letting her stay as small as she was, providing she was a Frost Giant. Apparently he could sense her inner turmoil about the Laufey issue – she was debating over whether to ask Heimdall to beam her down to Jotunheim, and risk attracting Odin's attention. It was refreshing, being in her Jotun form, actually.

Utgardr looked away from his scrying bowl, sighing, "We are having visitors!" He proclaimed to all in a tired tone.

"Who? Who?" Logi shouted, his voice echoing through the hall, the sudden warmth making her cold body uncomfortable.

"Thor and the Warriors Three, the arrogant brats! Hah! Skrýmir says they slept within his glove, thinking it to be lodging!"

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose at hearing Utgardr's double's report, before she sipped her wine, the bitter taste washing out any taste of fresh bread and butter from before. _What if they recognise me? But they wouldn't…Thor didn't recognise Sif until reminded._

"When will they be here?" She asked politely, causing Utgardr to chortle darkly.

"Just a few hours, ma'am – and then we will rid Thor and his compatriots of what ego they have! We'll teach them a lesson, won't we?!" There were cheers and shouts of agreements from the giant beings all around the room, filling the hall with noise.

Elizabeth planned to spend the rest of the time till his arrival thinking, but Utgardr wouldn't have it, and forced her to dance, to speak and to tell magnificent stories until she was laughing and smiling so hard it hurt.

Then the doors banged open, admitting Skrýmir and the four Asgardians. Elizabeth's laugh died, her eyes meeting with Thor's, the prince immediately gripping Mjolnir tightly. It had been so long since she had seen him in person – in her mind, she still saw a young boy calling for Loki to come and play. But the anger in his eyes at seeing her – seeing a Frost Giant – prompted her to look away, going over to where she sat before, beside Utgardr's massive throne on a podium bringing her up to where she could be seen instead of stepped upon.

Utgardr leaned over in his throne as silence fell. "Well, well, _well_ …am I mistaken in thinking that in front of me stands Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard?"

" _Crown_ Prince," Thor boasted, head held high. Immediately Elizabeth swallowed, feeling a sinking in her stomach. _Oh dear. Odin, what did you teach him all these years?_

"Indeed, _Crown_ Prince," Utgardr mocked, before sitting back. "Maybe you're stronger than you look. In what skill do you excel? We never allow anyone to stay unless he or she is a master of some craft or pastime." His eyes flit to Elizabeth, who couldn't help but smirk a touch, remembering her multiple invites. _What a reputation._

A burly red-headed man stepped forward, slapping his bulging stomach as he grinned, "No one can eat faster than I."

Utgardr hummed amusedly, "Very well. Logi, if you would…" he clapped, servants bringing in a giant wooden trench full of meat. Elizabeth inwardly cackled, knowing what was about to happen – and indeed, Logi, _fire_ , ate through the trench, meat and bones, while the Asgardian only ate the meat. If not faced against the physical representation of fire itself, it might have been impressive.

"I have been beaten," the man spoke, surprised. "You are a worthy opponent, Logi! What is your secret?!"

Logi grinned, "That is a secret, Asgardian – but you too were worthy, for one such as yourself. What might your name be?"

"Volstagg!"

Utgardr waved at them, "Hush. The one in the blue, with the curly blonde beard. You?"

The man stepped forward, looking quite similar to Haldor in some respects. _It must be hard for Sif, if she hangs out with these four the majority of her time- wait a minute…where_ _ **is**_ _Sif?_ Elizabeth frowned.

"I am Fandral, Fandral the Dashing." He winked at some nearby giantesses for good measure. "I am the fastest of my friends, and see it as one of my greatest talents. I would run against anyone you choose, the best out of three."

Utgardr nodded to the terms, motioning Hugi forward. "Hugi, if you would." Then he waved his hand, magic causing a track to set itself up around the room, with Fandral on the inside and Hugi on the outer. "On your marks." The two got ready, "Get set," their muscles bunched, "Go!"

The races, in the end, were actually quite entertaining, and showed off just how good Fandral was at running. At the end of the third race, with Fandral getting his farthest yet – halfway – and Hugi passing the finish line, Fandral had to bend over to catch his breath. Elizabeth's head tilted. _I would hit that._

The last of the Warriors Three stepped forward, Elizabeth recognising him to be a Vanir. He went to speak, when she put her hand up.

"Utgardr, if I may…" the Vanir looked at her, his eyes widening before he went down on one knee, "…this one I take responsibility for."

Utgardr looked the Vanir up and down, watching as he kept his eyes to the ground, "The Vanir are an honest race. He may stay, as can his companions, if Thor Odinson can pass his trial."

Thor, at the mention of his name, stood straight, face determined.

"What are your skills?"

Thor stepped forward a large pace, whole physique _screaming_ arrogance, even as his Vanir friend rose at a wave of her hand, walking over to the bottom of her podium to once again kneel.

"I could drink more than anyone in this hall!" He boasted, and at that point Elizabeth decided to ignore the goings-on, hopping down to where the Vanir knelt. Taking his face with human hands, she turned back completely, blue receding as the man looked at her.

"What might your name be, warrior?" He was young – younger than Thor, younger than Fandral and Volstagg, _younger than Haldor_. Sif was friends with this man, and he and his worshipped her, even now.

"Your Highness, my lady – I am Hogun, Hogun the Grim." His eyes flitted over her features, taking them in. "You are almost identical to the Lady Sif."

Elizabeth smiled sadly, "Sif is mine by blood. I have not seen her in what seems to be an age."

"You wear different styles to her," he pointed out lightly, "Enough to know that you are not what you look to be. Why do you take me under your wing?"

"Because as Utgardr said – the Vanir are an honest people, and you respect me." She lowered her hands, straightening the fur around her neck, and the necklace around her neck before taking the woven symbol of the Deathly Hallows from nowhere. "About three or four centuries ago, one of you gave me this." She let Hogun see, before banishing it away. "I keep it with me always."

Hogun didn't smile, but his eyes crinkled. "It is truly an honour, milady." Behind him came a shout from Thor, and Elizabeth looked up in time to see Thor throw away the Horn of Infinity, which Elizabeth had gifted to the giants that very morning. Immediately her anger sparked, magic roiling in her chest. _That is not yours to throw away like rubbish, Thor._

"Small as you say I am, just let someone come out and fight me. Now, I am angry."

Utgardr, looking around the room, replied, "I doubt anyone would wrestle you; they'd feel it's beneath them." Then he found her eyes, found her anger, "But perhaps Elli would fight you – that Horn was hers before she gave it to us. No doubt she feels vindicated at how her former-property is being treated."

"Indeed, I am _very_ angry, and not only because of the Horn." She stood, Hogun leaving her side to join Fandral and Volstagg off to the side as she stalked towards Thor, who looked at her, confused.

"Sif?"

"Exactly – Sif. My daughter shouldn't be hanging around with the likes of you if you are this egotistical." Elizabeth grabbed his sleeves, waiting for him to start moving as a signal to start, forcing the magic of Death into her body, increasing her strength tenfold. _For nothing can conquer death,_ she thought darkly, before putting him on the floor, holding him in place. He didn't concede – not once – and she kept pummelling him into the ground, hard enough the floor cracked, until Utgardr cried.

"Enough Elli!" Elizabeth waited a single second longer before apparating back to her seat, breathing heavily but silently as she forced her magic back to the concept she controlled, just as the beings in this room controlled their own. Logi, fire. Hugi, thought. Utgardr himself, learning.

"Thor Odinson has shown his true strength – he will never give up even when it is futile. There is no point in any more challenges." Elizabeth said a near-silent goodbye to Utgardr before he continued speaking, then left as he started assigning chambers. Dropping into her guest bed, she could feel her anger still burning in her veins. _Odin, what have you done to that boy? You told me you'd force that out of him!_ She punched her covers, before going to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, she went down to the exit, fully planning on leaving to beat some sense into Odin, when she accidentally intercepted Utgardr and the four travellers.

"My lady," Hogun knelt, before Fandral, Volstagg and Thor bowed shortly, the latter looking at her suspiciously.

"You are the mother of Sif, but you wore Frost Giant skin."

"Did I?" Elizabeth replied innocently, already boring of him. Looking to Utgardr, she gave the giant a sad look. "I will be taking my leave, Utgardr."

Utgardr gave her a small smile, "I hope you learned something from your time here."

"Oh, I did – Odin needs a kick up the arse, for one, and then so does Thor." She snorted, shaking her head, "I'll be talking to Frigga, I think, about stealing Thor away for a year or two."

Utgardr chuckled, before walking with her and the Asgardians out of the building, silent until they came to the edge of the meadow surrounding Útgarð.

"This is where I must leave you. How do you feel things turned out? Have you met anyone more powerful than I?" He asked Thor, who looked at the skyline morosely.

"I've come off second best. You've put me to shame. I have never suffered greater loss of face. It irks me to know that you will say to all that I am a person of little accord."

The giant replied, "Now that we're outside the walls, I'll tell the truth. You'll never see the inside of these walls again. Had I known how strong you were, I'd have never let you inside in the first place. You were nearly the end of us all. I have deceived you. It was I who met you in the forest. I used wires to fasten the pack so you couldn't open it to get food. I placed a hill between my head and your hammer that you couldn't see. Those three square valleys you see behind the ridge were the marks you made in the earth with your hammer blows when you tried to hit me."

Elizabeth, in this, was basically, _What the fuck happened with Skrýmir?_

"Volstagg ate fast, but Logi was wildfire itself. He burned up the trencher and the meat. When Fandral ran against Hugi, he ran against thought. Nothing can keep up with the speed of thought. When you, Thor, drank from the horn, you thought you were found wanting. But the other end of that horn connected to the sea. When you get back to the ocean, you'll see how much it has ebbed from your efforts." He looked to her at the next point, "And it's a marvel that you withstood Elli for so long. Elli is death itself. No one can defeat death." He looked back at Thor.

"Here is where our ways part. It will be better if you never visit again. I have used tricks, and I'll use them again to protect Útgarð so you'll never be able to harm us in any way." _What the hell? Why is Utgardr scared of a child?_

At that, Thor growled, raising Mjolnir to swing at Utgardr, but he disappearing, taking Útgarð with him. As Thor growled again, slamming the earth with Mjolnir, Elizabeth heard Utgardr's voice in her head.

 ** _No one can defeat death, Elli. Many know and understand that. And for all your years and human perspective, you do not. Goodbye, Death. May we meet again._**

Elizabeth frowned as his voice, before shaking her head, _May we meet again._ Looking up, she saw Thor calm slightly, before he turned to her.

"You," he started roughly, pointing Mjolnir at her, "Explain. Now."

"You do not control me, Thor," she replied in a dangerous voice, green eyes flashing. "You would do well not to threaten me, either."

Thor growled, before turning to Hogun, "Why do you bow to her?! A Frost Giant!"

"She is not a true Frost Giant," Hogun replied calmly, "And I bow because she is my people's prophesised saviour. When the Aether comes, she will save our planet from destruction and avert the Darkening of the Universe by doing so."

Elizabeth made an alarmed face, "What? But I'm done saving the world!" She objected, before being suddenly sucked up by the Bifrost. Immediately, she turned to Heimdall, about to ask him what Hogan meant when her mouth went dry upon seeing Sif beside her pseudo-uncle on the golden podium, hair held back in a flawless pony-tail, resplendent in silver and red armour.

"Sif…"

But Sif was busy seeing to her friends, not even seeing her.

"Sif," Elizabeth said louder, causing her daughter to freeze, before she slowly turned.

"Mother? You're…you left the island…" Sif's face twisted, and then Elizabeth had an armful of Sif. Her eyes squeezed shut, burning with tears, she gripped her child tight, before letting go reluctantly, looking her over.

"You look more like me than ever," Elizabeth muttered, causing Sif to swallow.

"Can I come home now?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips, "You may. Just give me a few hours to coordinate. I need to make a house-call," her gaze drifted to Thor, narrowing as she saw his eyes on Sif's behind. "Thor Odinson, if you do not get your eyes off my daughter, I will castrate you."

Thor looked up sharply, face showing his momentary fear, before he looked to Sif, who turned to glare harshly. He stepped back, pointing at them.

"Now that, is something to be scared of. Fandral, look." Fandral turned, and upon seeing them immediately let out a muffled yelp, tripping backwards onto the ground. Elizabeth's glare broke, a smirk breaking out on her face.

"We've still got it, raven," she murmured to her daughter, before squeezing her hand and meeting her eyes before letting go and apparating to the doors to the palace.

Upon seeing her, the guards snapped to attention, "Lady Sága!" The doors opened, admitting her. As she swept inside, Elizabeth checked her garment, changing the blue dress and brown fur into her favoured outfit – complete today, with white gloves and black skin-tights due to the lower temperature, her white jacket without a single crease as she strode into the Throne Room, ignoring the suddenly-shouting Courts as she headed towards Odin in his golden seat of majesty.

"Lady Sága, you have returned," Odin intoned as she approached, heels clicking on the shining floor.

"I have. I decided to answer an invitation to a friend's party – one that your son interrupted, catching my attention." Her eyes flashed. "Do you know he very nearly, perhaps even has damaged a unique, _priceless_ magical artefact that I gifted Utgardr and his kin?"

Odin sat up straight – and Elizabeth would bet it was more the mention of Thor offending her than of Utgardr, whose name caused the Courts to completely silence.

"What was the artefact?"

"The Horn of Infinity, a relic older than us both put together, twice over. I swear," she gained a suddenly light-sounding voice, a fake smile appearing on her face, "I _swear_ , Odin, that you told me that you'd get Thor sorted out before this kind of behaviour even properly began. If it has slipped your mind, I had the pleasure of taking care of him as a young child." Her smile twisted into one of anger, "He cannot behave like this, Odin Borsson! He cannot act like a misbehaving, spoilt, egotistical, war-mongering, _idiotic_ , child of a prince! _Loki_ is more responsible than him, his _younger brother,_ and I know _all too well_ how much trouble he has gotten into in my absence! Today he would have gotten _killed_ if Utgardr hadn't already known how young he was in heart and mind!" She was shaking, hands glowing an ominous green, the shadows of the room darkening.

Odin looked suitably cowed at her argument, a new look for him outside her parlour, whenever she had berated him in the past. From beside his throne, Frigga swept over.

"Elizabeth, calm," she said in a hush, taking her hands softly. Elizabeth held on tight, mouth a tight line as she tried and failed to reign in her anger. The woman she called friend made soothing noises as Odin spoke to her.

"Lady Sága, I would claim you sister with how close a bond we share, and I thank you for informing me of what an imbecile I have been regarding Thor," he replied in a low, quiet voice, surprising her slightly with his declaration. "What would you have me do?"

Elizabeth pressed her lips together tighter, the grip on Frigga's hands that was already impossibly strong, becoming stronger. "That is the problem, Odin. At that stage in his life, it is already too late. He is past his majority, yet not past the stages of early adulthood. Unless you plan to completely break him, there isn't anything you could do." She laughed hollowly, her anger draining away finally, her hands freeing themselves of Frigga's. "Anything _you_ could do."

His eye met hers. "Would you have me give him to you for an undeterminable amount of time? The Crown Prince of Asgard, in your hands to be broken down and moulded like clay?"

The doors to the hall swung open. "Father!"

Elizabeth's grin was dark as night, dripping with venom. "Yes."


	11. Chapter 11

Only the crackling of the fire broke the silence as the family laid in the living room of the Palace of Sakkavbar. Elizabeth laid on her chaise lounge, Sif lying on top of her with her head on her midriff as Loki sat up against them, content with the hand running through his hair as Fenris laid tummy-up beside him, radiating heat as the kneazle-leopard's curled up together with their kit, Mhairi, on an armchair enchanted to be cold. On Loki's own lap was the small Helyn, with Nani and Sigun sharing the loveseat close by, Nani's beau Gorgandr sitting on the floor like Loki was, head resting on Nani's ankle as they slept soundly. Only Elizabeth was awake, out of them all.

 _Ollerus should be here._ But he wasn't. Because Ollerus, her Olly, her grandson, was dead.

The tears had long since dried, but even in her sleep Sif was crying. She'd never got to know him, the longest time she'd spent with him outside the womb voluntarily being the single year she'd spent volunteering to train his section. Less than a month after she finished, he'd gone out on his first space patrol around Yggdrasil, meant to last twenty years, going around each of the planets. He didn't last a week before his entire section was killed in a pirate attack. Sif was devastated, and so was Elizabeth. Loki mourned his nephew, and the rest of the house-occupants and Gorgandr, knowing the truth, were with them, willingly suffering alongside them.

Elizabeth continually stroked Loki's hair, as both a comfort to him and to her. Sif had never really done the whole hair-stroking thing with her, but Loptr, when she'd found him again…it was just something she did. A strand behind his ear, flattening a stray curl. Oh his curls – she missed his curls. She'd told him stories, about his little curls, though he'd never submitted himself to it. He preferred to slick it back with magic – always had, always would.

A muffled shout pierced her ears, and she reluctantly left the gathering, moving Sif further up the chaise and conjuring a blanket to tuck around her, before she left the room, Demon whizzing to her shoulder quietly as Morgan quietly cawed her assent to watch the sleeping Asgardians and familiars.

Journeying down, into the basements of her property, Elizabeth came to the door of the cellar, lips wide as she saw Thor awake, Gorgandr's snake Mun dripping poison onto his eye.

"Please, please! Stop it! Please! I beg of you!"

Elizabeth watched for a few more seconds as the snake venom burned away the skin down to bone, before hissing in Parsletongue, calling Mun to her. Thor sagged where he laid on the rock, the Dromi chain that was supposed to be around Fenris' neck holding him down – for Fenris was apparently too large, and so was now ordered to have a chain as a collar, with two other chains keeping him down while he slept. It didn't make any sense, but when did the Courts ever make any good decisions when Odin was in Odinsleep and Tyr holding the throne? It amused Elizabeth to watch the Regent King lose a hand over it though.

"Thor, what a pleasant evening it is, isn't it?" She glanced at the single window, barely bigger than a half piece of paper, where moonlight shone through. Thor didn't answer, silent. She came over to him, kneeling by him. "Do you understand why I do this?" Silence. "You needed to learn a lesson. Everything comes with a price, Thor."

"But honour-" he murmured, trying to interrupt and failing as she continued.

"Honour especially." She heaved a breath, looking at Mun on her wrist, who had fallen asleep. He didn't get a lot of rest nowadays, but for a snake that had eaten the apples of Iðunn, he didn't need much any way. He would be fully energised by the time their conversation was over. "Thor, if I cut myself, what would happen?"

"You would heal…"

"No, not at first. The skin would cut open, then blood would pour out, and then it would heal. But if it were one somewhere such as my neck, what would happen?"

"You would bleed out…"

"Indeed, and words can do the same. Your brother is learning that lesson more and more as he grows, and uses it to his advantage – except unlike you, he knows the consequences. With the use of Mun, I have caught your attention, yes?"

"No…" he spoke sullenly, just as Mun awoke. "No, no, please, no-" Elizabeth stood, ready to place Mun back on the hook than held him.

"I have caught your attention, yes?"

"Yes, yes – yes you have my attention!" He whispered desperately, vocal cords raspy.

"Then listen to me," she met his eyes, the skin of his eyelid growing back as she stared, "You need to think before you speak, before you act! Think before you speak, think before you act! Repeat it back to me!"

"Think before I speak, think before I act!" He said in a panicky tone, trying to get out of his chain as she raised Mun to the hook, whispering to him.

"Say it again."

"Think before I speak, think before I act!"

"And again," Elizabeth settled the snake on the hook, holding a bowl under the dripping.

"Think before I speak, think before I act!"

"And again."

"Think before I speak, think before I act! Think before I speak, think before I act! Think before I speak-"

Elizabeth tipped the bowl over his face until it was empty, ignoring his screams, before leaving. Right before she shut the door, she looked back, speaking with a shaky voice, "Keep saying it, Thor, until the message…until the message sinks in."

Fingers making bruises on the back of her hand, she left, the silver scars of _I must not tell lies_ glistening in the dark.

* * *

"There's something wrong with James," Iðunn's teary voice greeted her as she entered the garden, golden apple trees shimmering in the sunlight. But Elizabeth paid them no mind as she came over to where James was lying in his outdoors crib. "His magic, it's- it's just fluctuating in a way I've never seen before. It's changing him, Elizabeth."

The witch's face was stone as she took James from his blankets, looking over the baby's magical core.

"You gave him an apple. Less than a year ago, more than a month – but someone's given him another one, _yesterday_."

"No!" Iðunn gasped, tears coming to her eyes, "Who would-"

"I know exactly who," Elizabeth's eyes fixed on a point on James' magical core, recognising the signature. "I hate him. I absolutely fucking _hate_ that man. And he calls me sister." She put James down on the grass, opening all his blankets and clothes up until he was bare. In her hand appeared the woven Deathly Hallows sign, the one given to her long ago by the Vanir, which she pressed against his chest, shutting her eyes as it sunk into his skin, creating a black mark matching the twine. "I'm sorry Iðunn."

And then they disappeared in a flash, leaving Iðunn behind as they appeared in a dark forest. James wriggled on the ground, the mark gone as Elizabeth picked him up, changing her appearance, and then clothes as she saw a house in the distance, her eyes picking up a couple through a window, wearing what looked like the start of Victorian fashion.

Focussing on them, she lifted her arm, reaching out to their life tethers. Elizabeth immediately grimaced, before attaching them to James. It wouldn't last long, but it didn't have to. The magic of Iðunn's apples worked differently on her son because he was her son – he had to have one and only one every decade, because he was already so close to the magic. Like an immunity. By tying James to the life-tethers of two others, and marking him as her own, instead of him dying, death would drain the life-force of the people around him, until he was no longer dying – and that meant until a decade had past.

By then, he would be safe from the effects of the apples he'd already consumed, but would also _have_ those effects. Apples slowed aging to impossible standards on Asgard, making ten years seem like a thousand at times, and a billion at others. Iðunn herself was an example of the latter, affecting James so much that James was still a baby, even though he should look around what Ollerus had been – the equivalent of twelve. And even now, he had the bitter end of the deal – because due to the high quantity of magic involved, he wouldn't be allowed, _couldn't_ be allowed on Asgard for another hundred and fifty years, at minimum.

"I'm sorry Iðunn," she intoned again, knowing that everything had happened so fast – but James didn't have enough time left for goodbyes. He'd age like a human until his majority, and then it would all slow down, like any normal Aesir, but he wouldn't know what was happening. Everyone would die around him.

Elizabeth felt a building in her chest at her thoughts. Everything, once again, was happening too fast, just like before she went into solitude. She swallowed at the thought of living it all through – _but I can't do that again. I can't just hole myself up again._

As she approached the house, she got a closer look at everything, and knew the magic that transported them here had worked properly. In and around the house, her green magic swirled, changing memories and creating scandal. That was her own little piece of amusement. _A gardener and the lady of the house, how stereotypical._ Humming, she entered the home, going up to the nursery where the five year-old Victor Creed slept. It was a rather large nursery, so she just conjured a crib, slipping James in alongside a sleeping spell, adding new, different toys before looking down at Iðunn's child.

 _She's never going to forgive me_.

This was Iðunn's first child, and she was hiding him away. Elizabeth couldn't allow Iðunn to know where James was. She looked up. _Forgive me, Heimdall._ Her magic reached out to the two children in the room, marking them against her pseudo-brother. But her head cocked at feeling Victor… _strange_. Elizabeth shook off the feeling, before brushing her hand over James' head, making his body squirm and writhe before the two-year-old lookalike once more looked barely a year, his memories gone, replaced with fuzzy images of Victor and the pair downstairs.

Elizabeth made sure to avoid Iðunn when she returned to Asgard, until she no longer could. The day she did, Elizabeth lost one of the best friend's she'd ever had.


	12. Chapter 12

About a hundred years later, Elizabeth paid a visit to Midguard, intending to have a short holiday. What she found was breath-stopping. Roads. Buildings with electricity. Street lamps. It was the year 1917 and World War One was still going strong, but no-one gave up. Heimdall had shot her down to Ireland, promising to wait three years before beaming her back up. Considering she didn't trust him in that regard – he was too protective of her own good – Elizabeth had immediately hid herself from him, making a mental note to show Loptr how to when she got back, if he hadn't already figured it out.

Wandering the streets of the city – it had to be a city, and she could already tell it was a sea-side city – she came across a bakery with a sign saying 'WORKERS WANTED'. Going inside, Elizabeth looked around, noting it was quite the nice bakery too.

"Excuse me," she asked the person over the counter, "but I'm looking for a job – the sign said you needed workers?"

The woman over the counter was large, with arms covered in flour as she kneaded dough. "Ay, I'm looking for workers here at Gretchen's. I'm Gretchen, if you can't tell," she said in a biting tone, looking her up and down. "When can you start working, fancy girl?"

"Today, if you like." She replied pleasantly, taking off her gloves and putting them in her satchel. "I'd need directions to a hotel or some sort of accommodations afterwards, but yes, today."

The woman grunted, "I've got a flat upstairs with a spare room. If you work here in the day, clean upstairs in the evening and wipe the shop floor at dawn, noon and dusk, you can stay there for free."

"Pay?"

"One pound a day, with a ten pence raise after a year." For a moment, Elizabeth was shocked, before remembering that it was probably quite high in pay for the time-period – with rationing and all of that, and there being no equal wage. "If you're going to work for me, I'll need a name," Gretchen barked.

Elizabeth raised her chin, before casting a short enchantment on the torrid woman and her bakery, so no-one could notice her use of magic as she changed her appearance in a handy mirror. Changing her modern clothes into ones similar to another young woman's she saw out the window – a green, long skirted dress that pulled in at her waist with sleeves that went to her wrists, a broach at her neck that made her feel like Mary Poppins, a triangle of white trimmed with lace on the collar that went over her shoulder into another triangle, keeping her high-heeled boots – and turning her hair colour into that of her mother's, a soft but fiery auburn, Elizabeth took a moment to pin the front strands of her hair back before speaking.

"Elizabeth…Elizabeth Riddle. You're free to call me-"

"You don't look like an Elizabeth, and you speak funny," Gretchen narrowed her eyes, "You look like a Sarah. Sarah Parker." She pointed to the side of the counter, where a gap laid. "Get in here and grab an apron, Sarah Parker. Roll your sleeves up and don't wear that dress tomorrow."

Elizabeth blinked, speechless, "But-"

"Apron. Now!"

Elizabeth scurried into the back, grabbing an apron and pulling it on, tying the back as Gretchen spoke more, at last minute remembering to hang her satchel up on the hook.

"Go into the back and get a pail of water. Wash the floor."

"Yes ma'am," she replied, distinctly remember her days as a slave for Petunia in that moment, hurrying to the back. What had she just gotten herself into?

* * *

Six months later, she was walking down the shoreline of Dublin Beaches, quiet as Joseph limped along, kicking the occasional stone with his prosthetic.

Elizabeth didn't get a lot of days off from her job at Gretchen's Bakery, and the work was exhausting. She worked from five am till eight pm at night – ten on a Sunday, because Gretchen gave them both from half eight till ten am to go to Church. Church and being a catholic was compulsory, as Gretchen explained, taking her under her wing, calling her 'a poor trollop of a girl'. At times, when a half-remembered comment about Anne of Green Gables came to mind from so, so long ago, Elizabeth wondered if this was what the book she'd never read was like. Because, surprisingly, after two months of living with the middle-aged woman, she felt at home – as if she was learning something from her many insults and derogatory comments.

Now though, it took all her will not to act like what she truly was – a twentieth century girl, where jumping boys might have been frowned on, but certainly wasn't uncommon.

Joseph was a regular customer at Gretchen's, and she got to meet him the next day she worked. He was very polite, buying his ration of bread, eggs and flour, and managed, somehow, to carry it all without a bag, opening the door on his own, with only one arm. He'd lost it two years before, out in France, but it was a small recompense for not having to be on the front lines, he said. Joseph was a nice-enough looking guy that it looked alright, too. He had wavy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and spoke in the most adoring manner. Elizabeth all but swooned when he left, staring out the window after him, only to get a hit over the head from Gretchen for not doing her work.

He came into the bakery every two days in the morning, at eight twenty-three on the dot, starting from Tuesday, and then again on Sunday at eight twenty-seven, right before they shut for Church. Three months into her stay in Dublin, he asked if she would like to take a walk down the beach. She went with him, but with the neighbouring shopkeepers daughter, Sharon, as a chaperone. In turn, Elizabeth was Sharon's chaperone, though usually, for Sharon that meant she was carrying the picnic basket, umbrella or some type of bag instead of reading a book. The favours continued for a few more months.

Until now.

With their hands intertwined, Elizabeth got up onto a rock suddenly, stopping them in their tracks as she, in a childlike manner, started to jump from rock to rock, Joseph smiling on silently until she lost balance for a second, and found herself pulled into his side.

"Joseph…" she started in a warning voice, only for him to press his lips to hers lightly. She made a noise, pulling back with wide eyes, before she reached her hands up to his neck, pulling him to her for a stronger, more intimate kiss that had him making his own noise before reciprocating. When they parted, he looked at her fearfully.

"You've done that before."

Elizabeth faltered, remembering her experience in what should have been an unlearned subject. "Yeah, I have…"

"You've had someone courting you before. Is that why you moved to Dublin?" His single arm gripped her tightly, holding her to him. Elizabeth looked at him, wondering if…wondering if she could tell him. Wondering if he'd believe her.

"I have a daughter, and a son," Elizabeth finally said. "Their father died. They're twins, and live with my brother in…in the colonies." She swallowed, hating this, hating _lying_. Joseph looked at her like he'd never seen her before – then an expression of sorrow took over his face.

"You aren't ever going to see them again, unless you go." Elizabeth stayed silent as he spoke his thoughts, "But you let me court you, and you're so nice, and you didn't really _lie_ …"

"Just avoided telling the truth," she murmured. "Would you also believe that I'm not a redhead?"

At that, he gave her a funny look, "I think I would notice if you weren't – that new-fangled hair-dye stuff doesn't last very…" he looked at her suddenly inky locks, "…long. Excuse my language, Sarah, but what in Gods name?" His grip tightened to painful lengths as he stared at her. "It…suits you," his voice was very high-pitched, "Are you a witch? A devil-worshipper?"

"Not a devil-worshipper," she said amusedly, thinking of her title. _What could I tell him? Not any Aesir shit, for sure, but magic and the Hallows…_ "I have to redefine some things for you, and maybe tell you a story." Elizabeth looked up at him, debating on whether to tell him her real name. _Maybe later – or point him in the direction of Gretchen._ "You are the most beautiful man I've met in a very long time." Her thumb traced his jaw, before she kissed him again, sweetly, before whispering into his lips, "There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…"


	13. Chapter 13

"So, _Elizabeth Petunia Rogers_ , how does it feel like to officially be a married woman?" Joseph smirked up at her from where he laid on their new bed, in their new apartment, in Brooklyn, New York. Elizabeth smirked down at him, wriggling, causing him to immediately groan before she unbuttoned his trousers, feeling his hard length pressing against the skin of her thigh.

"Well, not _officially_ yet – I do believe there is one more thing we have to do, soldier-boy…and if you ever call me Elizabeth Petunia again, I will maim you."

* * *

"The Statue of Liberty…even in my old life, I've never been up here before. Amazing view," she leant back to kiss Joseph's neck softly, smiling fondly at feeling his hand on her belly. _It's been so long since I've been pregnant._ "And don't you dare say it's nothing compared to me or any of that bull," she murmured, giving him a warning glare. His lip twitched.

"Oh no, the view's amazing – even better than you," he joked, causing her to hit his chest lightly.

"Ass."

"Ooh, turning American, are we?" Joseph teased, causing Elizabeth to roll her eyes.

"No matter what my passport says, I'll always be British at heart – and we're getting a proper kettle."

"Got no complaints coming from me, Mrs Rogers."

"You are so full of yourself, you know that?" She rolled her eyes, before taking his hand and tugging him back to the rickety elevator that took half an hour to crawl up to the top. "C'mon, I want to see what all the excitement surrounding Coney Island is."

* * *

"Holy _fuck!_ " She swore loudly, breathing in and out heavily as she glared at her auburn hair. It was one of her 'defining factors' in her identity as Sarah Rogers – because Gretchen still demanded her name be Sarah Parker instead of Elizabeth Riddle – so to get into the hospital she'd had to bespell it. "Can someone get my husband here already?" Elizabeth refused to do this one alone. Tom wasn't alive for Sif, and Laufey didn't know she'd given birth till a week after Loptr was born – Joseph would be here and he would name his baby, dammit!

"We're trying, Mrs Rogers," one of the nurses said drolly, checking her progress. "You're nearly there, Mrs Rogers, just the head-" she let out a gut-wrenching scream, before the cry of a baby filtered through the room. Elizabeth gasped for breath, grimacing at the afterbirth, watching as her baby was cleaned up of blood.

"It's a boy." _A boy, a boy…I owe Joseph ten dollars._ "Born July fourth, nineteen eighteen, at five pm sh- he's having trouble breathing. Get the oxygen mask." Her heart-rate shot up, being picked up by the monitor. Another nurse came to her side.

"Mrs Rogers, just calm down, everything's going to be fine-" Elizabeth glared at her, using magic to clean herself up before feeling her Apples of Iðunn benefits kick in. Sitting up, ignoring them all as she ducked and weaved, she found her baby in the havoc, taking him and bringing him to her chest, feeding her magic into him, causing his breathing to level up.

"Mrs Rogers, please get back on the gurney-"

The doors opened, a familiar voice, dry, reached her ears, "She doesn't do as she's told." Joseph came over, limp prominent as he came to her shoulder, pushing away nurses and midwives as they tried to reach their baby, who was breathing perfectly well now. "Boy or girl?"

She considered messing with him, but decided against it, "You're a daddy, Joseph, to a beautiful baby boy." Elizabeth leaned her head against him as he wrapped himself into her side, arm going under hers to hold their son.

"Steven?"

Elizabeth chuckled, "Only if I get to call him Steve, and I get to choose his middle name."

"Deal, and you owe me ten dollars." She rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the gut, sharing a grin with him.

"Steven Remus Rogers."

Joseph laughed, looking behind them to the nurses, "Steven Remus Rogers! My son! My baby!" He looked back at him, teary-eyed as he pressed their heads together. "Stevie. Our Stevie, El." He whispered to her, kissing her head with his eyes closed. "Our little Stevie…"

* * *

When Joseph dies, she somehow deals with it. After seven years of partnership, seven years of hiding from Heimdall, Elizabeth deals with it. She keeps teaching Steve all she knows from home, she keeps making sure he can use what little magic he has to make himself better, she keeps the bills on their apartment paid using conjured bills. Elizabeth deals with it.

Then she's struck down with TB, and Elizabeth, for the life of her, can't make it just fucking go away in time for the authorities to catch on that Steve's practically living full time at Bucky's house. He's taken in by the government, given a full health check-over and pronounced a variety of things. Without her there to encourage him, he starts relying on medication to help him instead of medicine – a big mistake that Elizabeth rectifies eight months later when she's cleared by doctor's to take him back in, but to 'rest easy', meaning no work. With her ability to keep money flowing, that doesn't matter.

She thinks, at least.

People are watching her, Elizabeth discovers, and failing to see where she gets the money. The call goes out, and suddenly – so she runs away, leaving Steve with Bucky because she knows the older boy can take care of her son if things go to pot, and her name is on the black and white television because she's a fugitive. A _fugitive._ She'd not been a fugitive in centuries – not since the days of the War, when Tom had to keep up appearances and call her his mortal enemy. Elizabeth makes it to the other side of the city before a stray gun-fight – nothing to do with her, _nothing to fucking do with her_ – catches her off guard and suddenly there's a bullet in her forehead.

Elizabeth wakes up seven days, seven hours, seven minutes and seven seconds later, within Asgard's medical wing, all the active magic on her person deactivated – including the anti-Heimdall enchantments. But not on Steve, because _no_ , Steve was hidden from her pseudo-brother and it was her own fucking fault – and Odin is forbidding her to retrieve him personally, or allowing her to go to Midguard until Heimdall gets confirmation that he's dead. That fucking confirmation comes on May eighth, nineteen forty-five.

The fact that he ended World War II didn't mean shit to her, and Loki and Sif agree. He wasn't even twenty-seven.

Around that time, Elizabeth gets _very_ interested in her golems, the ones that ran her household. Potions, magic, enchantments – and then robotics, and so much _science_ that even Loki gets confused, and he was the one to reintroduce her to the forgotten art that were physics and chemistry and biology. She only stops her experiments when an explosion that was a mix of magic, science and robotics rocks her home, and Saria and Ronan's kit Mhairi nearly gets incinerated.

 _Not_ investigating would eventually show to be one of her _biggest_ mistakes.


	14. Chapter 14

New York was different in the twenty-first century. Everything was louder and darker, and dirtier. Well, this part of town was. She knew that some places in New York shone, sunlight in every corner. But the sun was down, and Elizabeth walked a thin line, taking risks as she walked through the busier parts of town. A shout caused her to look about, eyes narrowing as she saw a blonde man with a gun. She went to cross the street, to help, but then he shot it, and her fast walk turned into a run. She barrelled the man over just as he shot again, her magic bringing the gun to her hand before she punched him in the face, knocking him out.

"Aunt May! Uncle Ben!" Came a plaintive voice, making Elizabeth's heart drop as she put the safety on the gun, standing and turning to see two people – a man and a woman – with a young boy shaking their forms. "Aunt May, Uncle Ben, wake up, wake up!" Elizabeth swept over, picking the child up, pulling him away from them as the shopkeeper called nine-one-one, other people coming over and placing jackets over their faces. The boy scrabbled in her arms, trying to get out of her grip, but she held fast. "Aunt May! Uncle Ben!"

"Shh, shh…" she stepped back, going behind an aisle so the couple's nephew didn't have to see them in their state. Elizabeth dearly hoped he had parents.

Later, the boy – identified as Peter Parker – was curled up in her lap in the police station, having not wanted to leave her side, and Elizabeth not wanting to leave him either. He was so alone. His parents had left him in the custody of his aunt and uncle less than a year ago and hadn't returned for him. Both were presumed dead, and now Ben and May Parker were too.

"Ma'am?"

Elizabeth turned to the police officer, who was holding a pad. "Yes?"

"When you were questioned before, you never gave a name or social security number." They looked at her, unblinking, waiting for her to answer. Elizabeth felt a sinking feeling, knowing it wasn't as easy to get an identity in this age as it was in 1917.

"My name is…" she bit her lip, before doing some quick magic, knowing she'd have to get the technicalities sorted out later. "My name is Sarah Rogers. I'm…I'm May's sister. I haven't seen her in a long time. I was fostered by her parents from Ireland when I was a baby. When they died I went back to live with a family friend." God, so many lies she told on Earth – it was getting hard to keep up. "I was coming to visit her, but then…"

The officer frowned, "But you weren't part of the party? It was _total_ coincidence that you were passing them on the street?"

Elizabeth looked down, "I didn't even know where she lived, let alone what she looked like." Fake tears sprung to her eyes, which she wiped viciously. "This always happens! Every bloody time!"

"Ma'am?"

She waved the officer away, "I need to go. I'll take Peter with me." She stood, inwardly apologising to Peter as she pushed her way through the station, ignoring the protesting from the NYPD. Elizabeth made sure her next pieces of magic were believable, as she left them building, making them invisible and creating simulacrum's – body duplicates – that kept pace as they entered the crowd, only for a person to 'accidentally' shove them – right out in the way of a fast-going car.

When she left the situation, Elizabeth made sure that no-one would be able to identify her duplicates face, and apparated far, far away.

* * *

They made a home in Portland, Elizabeth opening a bank-account and creating new identities for her entire family – the ones that would come down to Midguard, at least. Sif, Loki, her handmaidens, Nani's husband Gorgandr, and as a favour to Loki, Thor, Frigga and Odin as well. The home she and Peter shared was quite large, and everyone either had their own room or, if they were younger, shared. Peter himself slept in with Elizabeth most days though, due to nightmares.

Six months later he still had night terrors about his aunt and uncle. Elizabeth didn't really know how to deal with it. Sif had never had dreams such like Peter's, and even then, she didn't dream much in any case. Loki had them often though after their discovery, but learnt to accept what he was. Peter was too young for that kind of maturity though, and Elizabeth refused to go to Iðunn for an apple, in case she refused out of spite.

They eventually found a way to help him – stories. If told the right one before bed, he would drop off dreaming of whatever tale had been told.

One day, Elizabeth was out with Peter and Sif, that latter looking younger than she ever had before in her Midguardian clothes. Elizabeth herself didn't give in to her want to wear modern clothes that would make her seem younger, for Sif's sake, letting her daughter wear skinny-jeans, a blue button-up identical to what she wore way back when she first met Odin, and socks and undergarments. Sif found the latter items very strange, and still wore her Asgardian boots with it all, her dark hair let down, without a single tie. Elizabeth herself wore a white lace dress that went to her knees, with elbow-length sleeves and a straight neckline that showed part of her shoulders, and a pair of white heels, her hair up in a bun. Little Peter was just wearing a red button-down and jeans.

Walking along the street, the trio made their way across the door to a park that Peter pointed out.

"Please Mama, can I go play?"

"Sure, buddy," Elizabeth smiled, before he ran off. On seeing Sif's confused face, she pushed her forward lightly. "Why don't you go make sure he doesn't hurt himself? Have some fun."

"What is it?"

"A play park, now go play." She pushed her forward a little harder, prompting Sif to go forth, joining Peter in his revelry a few seconds later, not able to hide her smile.

Sitting on a bench, she took her phone from her handbag, playing Snake on the brick. A short while later, she was joined on the bench by a man.

"Hello."

"Hello," she replied pleasantly, pausing her game to glance at him. He had a nice face, with a receding hairline. _Older. Maybe forty, though could be early thirties. Nice smile._ Elizabeth bit her lip. "Any reason you're saying hi?"

He shrugged, "You looked like a beautiful woman. I wanted to know your name."

"Elizabeth," she said, after a pause. "Elizabeth Black."

"Phil Coulson. Would you like to go out some time?"

A laugh bubbled up in her throat. "Are you usually this forward?"

His smile dropped, "You're not married, are you?"

"A few times, actually. I have a lot of added bodies if you wanted to get serious."

"So…not married?" He questioned, glancing over at where Sif played with Peter. "Your daughter?"

"My eldest. She has a brother around the same age, but events separated us from him. I only got back into contact with him when he was…ten. He lives part-time with his adoptive parents." Elizabeth motioned to Sif and Peter, wondering if it was safe enough to tell a random man about her family. Probably not, but she could protect them. "I adopted Peter less than a year ago."

"They look happy," Phil noted. "Anyone else?" Elizabeth stayed silent, not wanting to talk about Steve. "Well, if things worked out between us, and they liked me, I don't see why I would wish to leave."

"You'd back off if I said?"

"Absolutely." He replied, before there was a vibrating from his pocket. He took it out, glancing at the screen. Elizabeth did too, catching a glimpse of a picture of a blonde teenage boy with his eyes crosseyed before Phil answered the call. "Clint?" With her hearing, Elizabeth guiltily eavesdropped on the conversation, though looked away in an attempt at giving him privacy.

" _Hey pop. Would you like to know what Tasha just did to m- ow! Tasha!_ " He whined to someone off the line, Elizabeth forcing her lips not to twitch. " _Dad, seriously, Tasha is being so mean-"_ there was a noise of the phone being taken roughly, before the speaker changed to a females.

" _Phil, Clint won't stop watching Supernanny. He's trying to emulate you so the newbies will be afraid of him._ "

"Everyone already is afraid of him," Phil replied in a wry voice. "Is he stopping you from watching your show?" There was silence from the girl, though echoes of the Clint boy's voice came through in muffles. "Natasha Romanoff, get your foot off his mouth."

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up as the girl grumbled, a spitting noise from Clint coming through the speaker. " _Thankyou! Now tell me why your feet smell like peaches!_ " The line cut off abruptly, Phil putting the phone in his pocket with a sigh, looking to her.

"'Get your foot off his mouth'?" She repeated, amused. Phil gave a small grin.

"I have…added persons, too, though Clint's mother has full custody of him. Natasha comes with him. I see them often enough though – they joined my line of work because I was in it."

"Romanoff?" She questioned, eyebrows knitting together.

"Barton and Romanoff. Natasha isn't mine, though she's as good as. She and Clint are…" he trailed off, an odd grimace coming onto his face, making Elizabeth nod sagely, remembering Haldor and Ollerus sadly.

"I know how that is," she glanced at Sif. "I only met Sif's beau once though before he died. Military."

"She's been trained too," he noted, causing Elizabeth to narrow her eyes, actually taking him in.

 _Lithe. Muscled…_ her head twisted slightly, _firearm_. "Yes, she has, and so have we both."

He looked at her, eyebrow raised, "Really? You don't look like it."

"Trust me, I am," Elizabeth said distractedly, seeing Sif approaching, face covered in mud. "Sif? Merlin, what happened?" She grinned, laughing slightly. Sif growled, wiping it away angrily.

"Peter decided it would be fun to go down the slide, and asked me to wait at the bottom for him. He landed in a puddle." Her fists tightened, muscles in her arm bulging visibly. She switched her gaze to Phil. "Who are you?"

"Phil, Phil Coulson," he stood, holding out his hand to shake. Sif, to Elizabeth's displeasure, grabbed his wrist in a gesture between warriors. "Okay…"

"I am Sif Tomosdottr. Why are you conversing with my mother?" She glared, grip on his wrist tightening so he couldn't get away.

"Sif-" Elizabeth started, only for Phil to speak.

"I was asking her out to dinner. Is that alright?"

Sif frowned, letting go of his hand to look at Elizabeth, "A date? What about Loki's father? You're still married, technically."

"Technically," Elizabeth muttered, brushing imaginary dust off her lap before standing, taking Phil's phone from his slack grip, to his obvious distress. "Calm down, I'm just programming in my number, and getting yours." Why Sif was mentioning her marriage to Laufey, she had no idea – she'd not mentioned him when Elizabeth told her family about Joseph and Steve.

"I, uh, have a private phone for that…" Phil replied weakly as she handed his phone back back, glancing at the number and not managing to keep the small smile off his face. "Would you like to go for dinner then?"

"Sure. I'll text you a place, you give me a time and date."

"Sure," Phil smiled, Elizabeth smiling back before Sif took her hand, tugging it slightly.

"Mother, can we go now?"

She switched her gaze to Sif, "Of course. I'll just call Peter." Elizabeth looked over the park, scanning for her son and finding him on the monkey bars, button-down covered in dirt. "Peter Odin Black! Get over here right now and apologise to Sif!"

Peter looked up, a guilty look on his face, before he said bye's to the kids around him, running over and standing in front of Sif with his eyes to the ground.

"Sorry for getting mud on you, Sif."

Sif pursed her lips, before nodding. "Apology accepted. Now come here." He immediately rushed over, the two smiling again as Sif lifted him up, talking Asgardian – or for Peter, broken Asgardian, both neglecting to use the Allspeak slash English. Phil's brow furrowed.

"What language are they speaking?" He questioned quietly. Elizabeth's lip twitched.

"If you get to the stage where you know family secrets, then you'll find out."


	15. Chapter 15

"Dinner was nice." Elizabeth admitted as they approached her road. Phil had called a taxi to both pick them up and bring them home, and they had spent the last part of the ride in comfortable silence, Elizabeth's head resting on his shoulder. "We should do it again sometime."

"Yeah, it was. I liked the movie too."

Elizabeth snorted, smiling, "I'll have to take Peter to see it. He'd love WALL-E."

Phil chuckled, "I told you it would be good."

"Good, yes, but a good date-night movie? Next time, we watch the one _I_ wanted."

"No, we'll watch 'Kung Fu Panda'."

"'Made of Honour."

"'Kung Fu Panda'."

"'Made of Honour'."

"Kung Fu Panda."

"'Made-'"

The driver interrupted them, "Here's the lady's stop."

Elizabeth glanced out the window, sighing. "It was a good date."

"Yeah – hey driver, wait for me, would you? I'm going to walk her to her door."

"You don't have to," Elizabeth looked at him, sitting up. Phil smiled.

"I want to. Now stay there and let me open you door." He got out of his side, going around and opening it as promised, bowing funnily, "Ma'am."

Elizabeth bit her lip, "Mr Coulson."

"Oh, call me Phil, ma'am." He held out a hand.

"Call me Elizabeth." She took his hand, letting him pull her out of the car before shutting the door, changing her grip on him as they approached her door, dragging it out. When they reached her porchlight, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you for tonight. It really was amazing."

"The pleasure was mine, Elizabeth." A silence fell, before Elizabeth stepped forward, closer to him, and hugged him lightly. He hugged back, until she pulled away.

"Sorry, I don't really feel like kissing you tonight."

"Oh, it's fine," Phil shrugged, "We're grown adults. We can go without a goodnight kiss till at least the third date."

"Fifth," she corrected lightly.

"Fifth," he repeated, before kissing her cheek with a smile. "Night, Elizabeth."

"Night Phil." She watched as he slipped away, going back to the taxi and getting in. "Night…"

* * *

The next date was the Friday after. They went to the cinemas again, but got take-out instead of going to a fancy restaurant like before, sitting on a park-bench. Phil found out the names of all her children but Steve, and discovered she had a close friendship with the 'Wreath-Vesters' family – Vesters being the last name that Gormund and Nani had taken on, and then subsequently Helyn as they adopted her. Sigun was Nani's so-called cousin in this, so her last name was different – 'Wreath', per her request. In turn, Elizabeth discovered Phil's worked for his best friend, Nicholas, and that his only living family – biological, because it turned out Clint was actually adopted and not his biologically – was his mother, who lived across in West country.

Once again he took her home to her door with only a smile.

* * *

"I have to take a short trip up to Asgard," Elizabeth told Peter lightly, "so Aunty Nani's going to take care of you."

Peter's eyes went wide, "No Mama, please don't leave me!" He dived for her, grabbing at the silken fabric of her robe. "Mama, please!"

"I'm going to come back," Elizabeth replied desperately, knowing there wasn't much of a window. It would her first time taking a secret passage – Heimdall had always accommodated before, but she didn't want him or Odin to know she was returning. This was important.

She'd located James – James, son of Iðunn, the child she'd purposefully lost so he could later return to Asgard.

Elizabeth had to tell Iðunn she'd found him. Not only did she owe Iðunn that, but…but she also needed an apple for Peter. In the future, at least. In fifteen years or so. Peter would decide when he was eighteen, and receive the apple when he was twenty-one. They'd have to make plans on how to conceal it all if he chose immortality. Would he come live on Asgard? Would he hide out on Midguard, changing alias' every few years? Or would he even continue his life as Peter Black, secretly smiling when people told him he looked young for his age? Thinking about it made her head hurt, and her heart thrum with anxiousness.

"But I want to come with you," he complained, "I wanna meet Loki!" Elizabeth frowned.

"You haven't met him yet? But I swore…" but no, when she thought about it, Loki hadn't met Peter yet, or vice versa. She frowned. Unfortunately she couldn't take Peter to Asgard yet – he really was just too young, and mortal. It wasn't uncommon for children his physical age to have already mastered the daggers, as they were already many centuries old, and with the kind of person Peter was, it wouldn't be hard for him to get pulled into a play-fight when she wasn't looking. He'd get himself maimed, or worse, killed. "I'll bring him back with me," she decided out loud. It had been too many years since Loki had last come down, in any case. The last time had been, oh…maybe during the Victorian Age, on a trip for Odin to see the development of Midguard. Memorably he'd lived in a supposedly 'haunted' house, to judge the nature of those humans who visited.

"How long till you get back?" Peter questioned.

"A week, perhaps less but not likely any more. At very, very most ten days. Sometimes clients need me for longer periods of time, and I can work with that, because time on Earth passes slower than it does in other realms, but I promise Peter, it won't be long. If I'm very, very lucky, it might only be a few days." She promised, before kissing his head, and giving him a hug. He hugged her back tightly, before going over to Nani, who picked him up and put him on her hip.

"Go," her handmaiden nodded. Elizabeth gave her a thankful look before apparating to the hidden passageway to Asgard in a nearby mountain, that with Loki's help ended up leading directly to one of the small but tall sand drifts a little outside the wards of Sakkavbar. Shutting her eyes, Elizabeth directed magic to the entrance-way, causing the magic around the stone hiding it to warp, revealing a deep well. Elizabeth jumped in without fear, the sides of the well lighting up with rainbow light before there was a flash, and she fell to her knees on the sandbank. Cricking her neck, she breathed in the taste of Asgardian air before apparating a short distance from the city gates, the guards letting her in on sight, as per usual.

Once inside the city, she deliberately took her time, procrastinating. Iðunn might not even believe her. _Best I bring proof_ , she thought to herself, before apparating to the Palace – more specifically, the Royal Library. Once inside, she was silent, walking with noiseless footsteps towards the Maps, silver robe trailing along behind her. Her years on Earth made her yearn to wear one, to feel the billowing sleeves and fabrics over her clothes. She was feeling so homesick that she even had the hood up, braided hair pulled forwards to sit over her shoulder.

When she reached the Maps section, Elizabeth slowed, before feeling with her magic for the right one, summoning it to hand and splaying it over a table. The map was of Earth, and was painfully wrong – but she fixed that, and soon pinpointed where she last found James.

"Canada," it hurt to see him there, where she'd first placed him. Elizabeth hadn't even realised – though she wasn't really to blame. New York was the furthest West she'd been until the twenty-first century. How was she supposed to know?

Rolling up the map, she left the library, apparating to the entrance to Iðunn's Orchard with a wince. _I should not be using apparation too much_. Apparation was difficult on its own, and while it was second nature to her, it was difficult on Asgard. Her magic powering the apparation only acknowledged that this Universe's magic existed when it was being used – Asgard was a focal point for this magic, and her magic had basically decided that the land and people didn't exist because of their high association with it. If Elizabeth wasn't careful, the natural way her magic changed her destination by a foot to avoid a single person might not work, and she could appear… _inside_ someone, and she had never splinched herself before. There would be no way that an Emergency Splinch Team could be brought to her in time if she did something like _that_.

But now she was at the Orchard, and that didn't matter. Stepping inside, Elizabeth searched for her once-friend, but could not find her. She knew that Idunn was avoiding her, but this was about _James_ , the woman's _son_.

Of course, it only occurred to her to actually say this _out loud_ when nightfall was nearing, after hours upon hours of pointless searching.

 _Stupid Elizabeth_ , she internally hit herself on the head before breathing in, "Iðunn, I'm an idiot, but I'm an idiot who found James again."

"Where?" A hand clenched around her throat, causing her to choke unexpectedly and Iðunn held her up against an apple tree, looking like a vengeful angel. "Where is he?"

Elizabeth held up the map in her hand, which Idunn snatched, dropping her to the grass. Elizabeth coughed, rubbing her throat, hoping she could make amends. "He's in a country called Canada – it's about as big as the Royal Woods, and basically _is_ a gigantic forest. Covered in snow half the time, trees are everywhere…I think he would have had a good life there, providing nothing went wrong…"

* * *

If only she knew what James Howlett, aka Logan, and Wolverine, had lived.


End file.
